


On My Terms

by Lafeae



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Drama, M/M, Online Dating, Online Relationship, POV First Person, Romance, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14589972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: Kaiba intentionally started a relationship with Joey Wheeler over the Internet; Joey never knew that it was Kaiba.Kaiba didn't know why, but it felt good. For the first time he was able to vent, but now Joey wants to meet Kaiba in real life; Kaiba agreed, reluctantly.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is being posted from fan fiction, it is complete but will be polished as I transfer it over chapter per chapter. Enjoy.

I watched the lips of the many men around me, my eyes shifting from one to the next as they spoke. They were careful not to talk over one another, knowing I would have been irate if they did.

I let out a breath and tapped my hand on the table. They all stopped talking. I fiddled around with my computer, bringing something up on a screen that was situated in front of all of us. The men all turned their eyes to the screen and I began to speak, telling them about what was on the screen. I was very careful with my words, knowing that they crept up on me and I wasn't able to wrap my tongue around them.

The men started talking again. I was sure they thought I looked crazy, watching them as they spoke, but they never asked any questions, at least not if their jobs mattered. Soon we were all finished, but I still watched their lips even when they weren't speaking to me. The quiet conversations ended when they walked out of the room and I was left at the head of the conference table.

My secretary entered the room. "Mr. Kaiba," she poised a small package in my direction. "This was addressed to your office."

I took hold of the small manila package that look like it was stuffed to the more than it was capable of handling. I nodded to my secretary, and she walked out of the room without another word. I inched my fingers beneath the edges of the flap which was tightly sealed. The package ripped open, and it seemed to explode in my hands. A small flood of paper fell out of it, and I pinched my lips together. It looked like confetti over top my shoes, and it made me smile. As I kept looking at it I realized that every piece of paper was either written or drawn on. Some of them were half sheets of papers; some of them looked like they'd been run through a paper shredder; others were several pages, front and back, and they were stapled together. I picked everything up and put it on the conference table.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reluctantly turned my attention away from the papers. There was a text message waiting for me:

_ R u at work Blue? _

I cracked a grin and started to type.

 _Just got out of a meeting._ I wasn't one for using text language, but the one I was texting couldn’t have been further from it. _What about y_ _ou Red?_

_ Dbl shift. _

I shook my head and wondered what kind of job he had. I had never asked him, and he had never asked me. All he knew was that I worked in a ‘management position’.

_I wnt 2 meet u irl_. 

The corners of my mouth downturned. I sighed. This wasn't the first time that I'd gotten this message, and it certainly wouldn't be my last. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. How to respond kindly to him?

I jumped and turned at the touch of something on my shoulder. There was a man in a janitorial outfit standing behind me. "Sorry, Mr. Kaiba," he bowed his head, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

I looked back at the screen on my cell, and I wondered what to type. I looked back at this nameless who still stood looking around, absent. It was one of those moments where you wondered if it was alright to just ask someone a question. I had hardly came across these moments in my life, but I was half tempted. Something in the back of my mind stopped me. I knelt to the floor and picked up a few stray pieces of paper and set them on the table along with the rest that had come in the package.

"You want me to take that paper out?" I turned to the man, realizing that he was moving his jaw. I had faintly heard him. My mind was scrambled. I didn't know how to respond to the text, what to do with the paper…but in the least...

"Leave now," I said to the janitor.

"Of course, sir," and he bowed his head again and walked out of the room. Once in my comfortable silence, I looked to my cell and composed:

_Alright._

After sending that messages, I thought about what I had sent, and then sent another message:

_But it will be on my terms._

This thing is, this story doesn't start with real life. This story starts with the Internet—with a whim.


	2. Chapter 1

I had set up a meeting at a local bar; it was the kind of place that was out of the way, and a place that I could deal with Red without rousing any suspicion. But I guess I should start by calling him by his real name: Joseph Wheeler. I wasn't actually sure how long I had been talking to Wheeler—roughly thirteen months? It had all been by accident, of course, that I had come across the opportunity to be able to speak with him unbiased.

 

—////

 

Ever since I'd dealt with him in Duelist Kingdom and Battle City, I never had thought to myself that I would have to deal with him anymore on a human basis. I never thought it was possible. Joey Wheeler was a person that always grated my nerves. His nasal voice especially.

I had come across him in a coffee shop one morning. I didn't mean to; I didn't want to. I tried my best to pretend that we hadn't noticed each other, but I couldn't deny something that he was in front of me. I walked up to the counter, carefully looking out of the corner of my eye to him. He was sitting in a booth, his phone in his hands, his elbows waded on what I guessed was his green, ragged coat. None of his friends were there. I sneered and looked back to the barista. 

For a moment it seemed like she was talking and there was nothing coming out of her mouth.

"What?"

Snickering came from behind me, but I ignored it.She repeated the price without qualm. I handed her the money, and she made change and turned away. As she did, I put my hand to my ear. I wasn't about to pick at it in public. Not with Wheeler there. When I turned around, he was still in the same position as before, almost too engrossed in his phone, snickering to himself.

In the time that it took for the coffee to actually arrive, I found my thoughts focused solely on Wheeler. I'd hardly ever seen him out of crisis context; I'd never seen him without his friends around. I wasn't about to call out his name and start a conversation. We hadn't fallen into the twilight zone, so it just wasn't going to happen. Still, I tilted my head to the side so I could get a better view of him, and I smirked.

My own phone was buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the number. Sighed. Business as usual. I pressed it to my ear, this time realizing that the small fault in my hearing seemed to have carried over. "Hold on," I said to one of the divisional managers on the line. There was never a need to explain why he had to wait, and though he did ask why, he stopped talking nonetheless.

Once the barista gave me my coffee, I turned to walk out of the coffee shop. Halfway through my pivot, I allowed my eyes to travel to Wheeler one last time. He was still immersed in his cell phone. I guess I probably looked the same, but when you're wearing a suit it wasn’t as strange. I thought that would be the last I would have to see of Wheeler—other than if I came across him in the more usual setting—but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't going to be that way.

"Talk now," I said to the manager once I was outside. Everything seemed fine. There was nothing wrong with my what I was hearing, and I wondered if maybe it was the fault of bad reception.

I listened to the man as he rambled number and data about his division, and I nodded along, having remembered reading it elsewhere. When I got in the car I put the man on speaker and set it on the dashboard. "You're going to be here soon right?" he asked when he finally took a breath.

"Yes," I replied with calm, but inside I was berating him. I couldn't do everything for them. These were my days, however. Hectic as hell.

I let Wheeler fall from my mind when I arrived at the office, and the further along the day went, the further he faded away. But despite the sea of paperwork, proposals, and other what-have-yous, there was still something about him that crossed my mind when I sat back a moment and thought about all the other things. It was a lot like a light when driving down a dark road. The light beamed, and it seemed like it was getting closer, but with a blink it was gone. I was busy again, and he was gone like that light.

After day was over, I walked out of the office with my arms heavy at my sides, my briefcase weighing my left down even more. There was only one thought in my mind at that point: home. It was later than usual, around 09:30 PM when I left the office. It wasn't until past ten that I got home. When I opened the door, the front rooms were soundless. There were from footsteps above.

"Mokuba?" I called out. I closed the door, hung up my coat, and placed my briefcase beside the door. The footsteps thundered down the main staircase.

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba was already in his pajamas, and he had a toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. "I was just about to call you," he said, pulling out the toothbrush. He hugged around my waist and squeezed. "Glad your home."

I ruffled his hair. "Glad to be home," I replied. "Are you getting ready for bed?"

"Yeah. I'm almost done," he had already begun up the stairs before I could say anything else. I didn't follow him upstairs even though I intended to see him off to bed. First, I rounded into the living room where I could see that Mokuba had made a small set up like he usually did. The television was turned off, but his laptop was wide open and still on. I was just about shut it, to save Mokuba the temptation, when I saw something pop up on the screen. I sat down on the couch and pulled it closer to me.

"Nii-sama?" Mokuba had come back downstairs without me knowing noticing him creep up behind.

"Find something new?" I asked. He came and sat next to me, pulling the laptop out of my hands.

"Yeah. Its just a gaming forum. Just one of those sites where I go and talk about stuff like Duel Monsters or other things," he said. "I found it like…a few weeks ago. Some friends told me about, so I thought it would be cool. Haven’t really seen anything, liked bad or nothing.” 

I was scanning the page. He had minimized the dialogue box that had popped up. It didn't look dangerous; I had remembered the URL, intending to see what it was exactly later. The box popped up again.

"Joey…" Mokuba whispered. He shook his head, typed something, and then minimized the window again.

"You better finish it up. Its bedtime and you have school," I told him. He looked up at me with his usual doe-eyed look. He shut down the computer and put it back on the coffee table. “Goodnight, Moki," I said. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and I hugged him back.

"Love you, Nii-sama."

"I'll get you up tomorrow," I said. "Love you, too."

Mokuba was back upstairs in seconds, and I was sitting on the couch with my jaw flinching.

Joey.

I wondered if he meant Wheeler. For the longest time Mokuba had been friends with him. I'd taken him to the Turtle Game Shop to spend the evening with Yugi and his friends; he'd always seemed closest to Wheeler, and it was typically Wheeler who greeted him. Still, I never exchanged any more words with Wheeler than I needed to.

Later, I sat in my study finishing up a few things that I hadn't at the office. Out of curiosity, I typed in the URL for the website, and when I got to the main page I realized Mokuba was right. It was less than dangerous; it was almost childish. I had to hold back a chuckle. I leaned back in my seat and scroll through the pages, still debating with myself if it had been Wheeler he was speaking to. I shook my head. It could have been, but I felt naive to wonder why.

I closed the page and went back to my work.

The next morning, I had every intention to wake Mokuba up. I was usually up at least an hour before him, sometimes two depending on how sleepless I was during the night. There was always something the seemed to be on my mind,whether it be with work or my own imagination creeping up on me sometimes. I had lied to Mokuba. Instead of me waking him up, he’d come into my bedroom and did the opposites

There were instances that I didn't wake on my own, mostly dead exhaustion, and in that case there was an alarm clock set as a precaution. It was very rare that I used it, so I was surprised when Mokuba bounded on me the next morning.

"Nii-sama?" he asked. He had mouth was next to my ear, and he was practically straddling me. "Nii-sama, you need to wake up," he said. His hands rubbed against my shoulders, shaking them. I woke up. "You must be pretty tired, huh Nii-sama?"

"What're you talking about Moki?" I was still half asleep, but I rose in bed. Mokuba slid off the side of my bed and stared at me, confused. "What time is it?"

"Like…6 something."

I was stunned to consciousnesses I checked the clock; he was telling the truth. "Didn't my alarm go off?" I asked, climbing out of bed and straightening the sheets as best I could. Mokuba was likely grinning at me, knowing well that I wasn't often caught off guard like this.

"Yeah," he replied. "It went off for about a minute and then stopped."

The flabbegasted look was back again, but only for a moment. There was no reason to let Mokuba see fault in my thinking. I didn’t think want him to think there was anything wrong. I stopped my twitching around, knowing it only added to the situation, and I let a calming breath radiate through me. Thirty seconds and I was composed. I turned back to Mokuba knowing that I may not have looked happy, but at least I was restrained.

"I guess I slept through it," I said, but the words were hard to cough up. If there was a light breeze shaking the window panes, I would wake. If I thought Mokuba was up and wandering, I would wake. The blaring of an alarm shouldn't have gone on for more than a nanosecond. "You're still in your pajamas I see."

"Yeah. I was about to take a shower," he said. He left me after that. For a few moments, even with my composure, I stood with my head hanging and my mind still going over all the possibilities. I may have been tired…but…

I brought my hand up to my ear, this time sticking my pinkie finger into it. No change.

There was no use in standing around. The day had already begun and I was up to my neck in paperwork that I had hoped on getting a head start on. I gathered my things and went towards the shower. The cold water washed away the madness.

Days later, when everything seemed to settle back in sinus rhythm, when I woke at the correct hour and didn't come across a mutt in a coffee shop, I found myself still a little curious. Maybe it was because of the gamer that made up a part of my existence. Or maybe it was simply because I wanted to watch over Mokuba, like his guardian should. For either reason, I went back to the site that Mokuba had shown me days before. After a little deliberation (and looking through the site guessing that many of the dwellers were likely under the age of 15), I created an account under the penname  _BlueS2510._

The site wasn’t what I would call small, but with a few quick keystrokes I was able to find Mokuba. I gathered that he was an active member as I read through some of his posts. It didn't surprise me that he was most active on topics of Duel Monsters. I smiled and minimized the screen when a musical knocking came on my door.

"It better be important," I said. It was usual reply to a usual knock. My secretary opened my door and let one of the division managers through. I shut my laptop and folded my hands neatly in front of me. "Something the matter?" I asked, drawing concern that there was something wrong because of all the managers, the one before me was most competent.

As he spoke, however, my thoughts were stuck on that website. I didn't know why I was drawn to it. It was more than monitoring Mokuba. A few quick glances was all I should have needed. Maybe it was because of the comment that Mokuba had made a few days before when he had to keep minimising the dialogue box.

When the man finished, he left a manila folder in front of me and left. I skimmed the report, and as I did my cell phone began to ring. Mokuba’s self-chosen ringtone.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Nii-sama."

"What's up, kiddo?" I asked, turning the page in the manila folder.

"I was wondering if I could go to Yugi's. You wouldn't have to take me there or anything; I know you're busy. Joey said he'd come and get me.”

And I wondered how safe Mokuba would be, in whatever Wheeler’s clunker mode of transportation was. After being silent for several seconds, he pleaded: "Please Nii-sama?"

A steady breath. "You'll call me when you get there won't you?"

"I'll put them on the line and everything, I swear," he said. It was a Friday night, and while I hated to admit it, I would be grateful if Mokuba was out of the house and I didn't have to worry about being home at any certain hour.

"Fine," I said, and just about hung up when I said: "Wait. About that site that you were on the other day…"

"Yeah?" his voice trembled a moment.

"Don’t worry. I don't care if you're on it. I was just wondering if you were talking to Wheeler while on," I said, just to soothe that curiosity.

"Uh, yeah…" Mokuba laughed away the nervousness. "He's one of the friends that showed it to me."

"I see," I nodded to myself. I wondered how hard it would be to find Wheeler on there. I didn't know why that thought crossed my mind, but it did. "Well, call me when you get there all right? I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Thanks a lot Nii-sama.” He said the usual farewells and hung up. I returned to read what was in the file, but while I held it in one hand, my opposite hand was opening my laptop again. I popped the website screen back up and looked around Mokuba's user page to see if there was any sign of Wheeler. He was easier to find than Mokuba was.

 _RedEyes_BD_  

Why didn't that surprised me? His posts weren’t interesting; they were comical even. It showed what little knowledge he had of the game that he regularly played. I forwent setting up my own user page (that would come later with the most minimal information possible), in lieu of playing around with the dog first. On one of his posts where he was trying to show off his prowess which, in truth, was relatively correct and no young child could rebut, but I did so. After, I returned to the file that was in my hand and I left the screen open, refreshing every few minutes or so to see what happened.

It took him only 12 minutes. Hook, line, and sinker.

—////

But back to that bar for a moment. I had jitters, no questions asked. No one could notice, but that was because I was still in my car with my fingernails sinking into the steering wheel. I had parked across from the bar and was looking for a sign of him somewhere, wondering if he had gotten there before I had.

I turned my attention to my jacket, pulling it down to expose my shirt. From the dashboard, I plucked up a small paper flower, blue, and tucked it into a little pocket on the breast of my shirt. I covered it back up with my jacket and got out of the car. No use in being afraid. I had set the terms; I was going to follow through.


	3. Chapter 2

The whole of the outside world is sometimes a strange, silent chasm—not a metaphor. Sometimes, I could sit around and not hear anything, as if I were lost in the synapses of my mind. People can pass me by, and though I can tell what they're saying, it doesn't always break the barrier.

I may have gotten out of my car, but I was still holding onto the door and staring at the bar. People passed by on the streets, unaware, the nightlife of the city abundant. Then, a few eyes glanced out at me from their lethargy. It was those people that drove me forward. I wasn't a hesitant man, and I wasn't about to let strangers think so.

I folded my jacket together and held it closed as I walked across the street. This was one of those moments where I expected something catastrophic to happen because it seemed so unreal. When I reached the opposite curb, I stopped and thought about how all this went from insult to a mild tingling attraction.

 

—////

 

The position that I was in was a sticky one. I didn't really think about it until I had attacked Wheeler. Now, as I sat back looking at his reply, I realized that if Mokuba was friends with him online, there was a chance that Mokuba was likely to see the replies I’d posted. He was smart enough to read into those sorts of things. It was a careless mistake; my blood had boiled the moment that I had opportunity. Now, as I settled into the thoughts, I realized that there was something that I would have to do to make it look as innocent as it was. As if I was any other user who had logged on.

That was for later. Work was in front of me, I forced the laptop away so I could delve into fruitful business. There was no reason for a Wheeler bark to bother me.

That night, I was home at the wee hours. Mokuba had called me somewhere around six o' clock to tell me that he had made it safely, and he was about to put someone on the line to prove it. I urged him not to, not feeling like getting into a conversation with any of the dweebs. I could hear them in the background just fine.

In the darkness of the manor, I stood rubbing my eyes. Even though it was late, and I was tired, I still wanted to set up a persona deterrent on the site. I sat on the couch, a singular light gleaming in the room and logged on. I fixed up my user page to look like someone who, while mildly intelligent, was about the same age as anyone else on there. I then checked to see if Wheeler had added anything else to his comment. He hadn't, but others had had started a long reply chain. I didn’t stay up to read any of them.

I went to bed shortly thereafter, assured.

—

I waited. Mostly because I didn't want to seem like I was targeting him. I watched Mokuba’s habits while I acquainted myself with the site. I made comments here and there, but mostly ignored the other users. I didn't intend to get myself too involved.

Nothing exciting went on in the first few weeks. I drew everything out knowing that a good plan had many layers. I was aware that I thought about all this too seriously, but there was something about Wheeler that kept my mind wholly occupied, at least when I was thinking about it for a few milliseconds at a time.

After that first month, that little incubation period that I felt it took for me to look like the average user on the site, I found myself searching for Wheeler once again, rebutting a comment that he had made. It took him longer to respond this time, but it was the kind of response that I expected from him.

_You goin reverse everything i say or wat?_

"Is two times all it takes to tick you off?" I scoffed out loud, quietly laughing to myself. I expected more resistance before he got annoyed, but then when someone had the attention span of, well, a dog, then I suppose it didn't take more than two small comments to set a flame under his ass.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't doing this all the time, only when my mind happened to slip to it. Most of the time, my mind was split in three thousand different directions, and I was left to clean up everyone's messes and deal with them as they tried to press their heads into my shoulder and cry that their pencil pushing positions were too hard for them. I never allowed them that much. Not only was their dignity on the line—so was mine. All it took was one glance from me for them to close their mouths and pivot around to walk away. It was either that or I started cracking heads, and they knew that. Most people assumed it was out of pleasure. They thought it was pleasurable for me to yell at under competent workers—or fire them when the time called for it. Only on rare occasion did I get their prideful flutter in my chest for something like that. Mostly, it was a waste of time and manpower.

So when I was dealing with complaints, proposals, spreadsheets, endless calls or texts, I was happy to have something thoughtless to turn to in the meantime. Wheeler seemed to be the most appropriate target. Badgering him was like winning the sweepstakes. It made me simmer down amidst all the chaos. Control, I suppose you could say. That was why it brought a grin on my face when I replied back:

 _If you keep making dumb comments I will_.

After a minute I refreshed. He was on it, replying:

 _Im just as right as u are. U don't have to make a fuss_.

Other users were making comments off of our comments. This time, I read them in earnest, amused as people took sides. I wasn't as well received as Wheeler was, but I wasn't there to make friends.

I replied:

_If you want to help someone, you might want to help yourself first. You play a game that you don't even seem to understand; I don't see how you could possibly tell other people how to play._

Mokuba walked into my study. "Nii-sama?"

I closed the laptop after submitting the comment. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" he asked. I had stood from my place and was walking around the desk.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" I knew why Mokuba was coming to get me. It was likely dinner time and I had promised him, after missing so many days of getting to eat with him, that I would go out to a restaurant of his choosing.

"I knocked and you didn't answer," he said. "You get zoned out or something?"

"I was working on something," I said.

"I knocked pretty loud, Nii-sama," he said. I nodded.

"Like I said, I was working on something,” I repeated. Mokuba walked out in front of me, preventing me from going forward. I kept waiting for him to say something to me, but he just looked at me strangely. "Something on your mind, kiddo?"

"Nothing, I was just looking at you," Mokuba said.

"Looking at me? Whatever for?"

"You look like you've got something on your mind," he replied. He was back at my side, and we were walking towards the main entrance. He was already ready, his coat on. I looked out the window, winter flecks starting to blanket Domino. I grabbed my coat, too.

"There's always something on my mind," I told him. "I've been working on a new prototype that should be pretty good,” I said. Usually this sufficed him.

“No...its more than that."

"Oh? Well how do you know?" I asked playfully.

He smiled and said: “I just know, nii-sama. That's what I'm here for, to know you," it was heartwarming, to say the least. Mokuba was about the only person in the world that had that effect on me. He was the only person that I found myself beaming and smiling over.

"Yeah well, know me as you do," I began. He hopped into the passenger side of my car and I went around to the driver's side. "There's really, really nothing spectacular."

"If you say so," he shrugged.

I pried the restaurant out of him as I started down the road. Mokuba told me about a quaint, café-like place that I'd taken him to before. I knew he wanted to come for the dessert.

Mokuba and I had gotten knee deep into conversation by the time we reached the café. I switched the topic to him after plenty of pestering regarding what was on my mind, and he was being especially awkward or silent about everything. He was a junior high student, and he was starting to have all the natural reactions as of a junior high student. When I brought up girls and the prospect of him "possibly, maybe, kinda, and sorta" (his words) having a crush on a girl, he looked to me sincerely and said:

"When are you ever going to find your special someone?"

We had already been seated at the café, and I was on the lookout for a waiter to drag me out of this topic. It wasn't the first time that Mokuba had ever asked me, but I always found a diversion. This time I couldn't.

"Well now," I rolled my shoulders a little. I had to look him in the eye just so he didn't think I was nervous about this topic. "Sometime," I said. He frowned.

"Nii-sama!"

"What? You said when."

"I'm being serious," he crossed his arms. "I wish you'd find someone you could spend time with."

"I spend a lot of time with people already," and speaking of such, my phone was buzzing in my pocket. I let it go.

"Yeah, but I mean…you know…someone who you can be…"he was turning a few shades of off red, and I smirked at him. "Stop it!" he demanded.

Luckily, to save both of us from this embarrassment, I saw that there was a body standing beside us. Relief washed over me and we ordered.

I hadn't been with someone. I had been too busy building my life to think that I ever needed anyone other than Mokuba. Of course I'd heard the bad rumors in trash magazines or on the news. People wanted to speculate if I was with someone, or if at any moment I was seen with a female, client, employee, or otherwise, I had managed to find someone. I'd never given it any thought.

"…-sama?"

I drewmy focus back towards him. "What?"

"You didn't hear me?" He asked.

"Hear what?"

"I was just asking you something," Mokuba said. "You didn't hear a word I said?"

"No," I replied. "Like I said, I’ve been on things. Must’ve got lost in thought.”

When I looked back at Mokuba, the heartwarming look he’d had for most dinner was no longer heartwarming. The corners of his mouth drooped, his eyes went downcast. When he was sad, it was usually for the same reason, and I always reacted just the same. "I swear I won't work myself to death,” I said, and added: “....and I'll find someone," where was a good question though.

"It had nothing to do with that," Mokuba said. "You can always just tell me if something's the matter."

"I'm fine," but I wasn't. I just didn't want to admit it. Yet.

The rest of dinner was quiet, going on without anymore bumps. When we arrived back home, I had something waiting for me. At the site, like most sites, there was a PM system, and Wheeler had decided to grace me with one.

—

_From: RedEyes_BD_

_Subject: You're a jerk._

_I'm just as right as you are, so stop being so annoying and be nice to the others that are on here cuz all youre being is a childish prick who needs to cool hit jets. I don't care if you're the damn creator of the game….its just a game. Leave me alone and ill leave you alone._

_-REBD._

—

I shook my head at the irony of his statements. My fingers itched and I let them work.

—

_To: RedEyes_BD_

__

_Re: Subject: You're a jerk._

__

_I'll leave you alone when you can fess up and say you're wrong._

__

_-Blue_

__

—

__

Cruel and unusual, yes, but fun all the same. I looked through some of Wheeler's old posts in the meantime, waiting for him to reply to the PM. It was about that time that my stomach began to feel as though there was something growing inside it. I ignored it, continuing on with what I was doing. When he finally replied, he was just as aggravated as before.

__

—

__

_From: RedEyes _B_

__

_Re: re: Subject: You're a jerk._

__

_If youre just gonna harras me the whole time im on, Ill have no problems going to the admins. All this is is friendly banter and youre being a jerk and ruining everyones fun. Its people like you that piss me off the most. You take things waaaay to seriously and don't know when to just sit back and relax. I bet youre just some stuck up little emo brat who thinks hes gotta be right all the time._

__

_Get a life._

__

_-REBD._

__

—

__

I lowered my head and felt the corners of my mouth tug upward. I had gotten him where I wanted him; I had him cornered and now all he could do was bark on his chain but couldn't bite. But it wasn't as rewarding as it could be. In the pit of my stomach the feeling grew, and my pleasure was torn by the disgust.

__

I composed a reply.

__

—

__

_To: RedEyes_BD_

__

_Re: re: re: Subject: You're a jerk._

__

_Don't be ignorant and act like you know what kind of person I am._

__

_-Blue_

__

—

__

I shut my computer after that. I knew that the twisting and churning in my stomach wasn't goingaway, and I was gathering a headache on top of it. I figured that there was only so much of Wheeler that I could take in one sitting. Even though it was funny at first, I could only take so much of his "friendly banter" without feeling myself be consumed.

__

I went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, my hands sinking under the water. I splashed it up on my face and sighed. The headache was getting worse and the nausea wasn't subsiding. Footsteps padded into the kitchen. The light buzzed on.

__

"Nii-sama?"

__

I turned off the water and leaned against the counter. "I'm going to bed," I told Mokuba, and I walked with my hand holding tight to the counter. He walked alongside me, his hand on my wrist. "I don't think dinner settled with me," I added, hoping that he wouldn't get concerned with the suddenness.

__

Mokuba sat next to me for almost a half an hour after I had turned in. I don't know what he was waiting for, but I was grateful that he did. Even though he was sitting there and I could find something to draw my attention away from what I supposed caused all this, I couldn't keep myself from thinking about it. I didn't know why I had even written that as a reply. It seemed irrelevant in retrospect to what Wheeler had said to me. All the same, it felt necessary. But, how would he reply? Probably some kind of way that dodged it, and went around it, or he would just keep gnawing at me.

__

What if he just didn't reply?

__

He would. He would do anything to be confrontational with me.

__

I think my biggest worry was if he actually addressed it and asked me who I was. That made my heart pound the hardest. Why? I don't think it was fear; I think part of it was fear, but like the entire situation, I was seeing opportunity and knew that I had to seize it. Still, if he did ask, what would I tell him?

__

I fell asleep before I could answer myself.

__

—////

__

My hand was clutched at my heart. It was either beating too fast or too slow. There wasn't any sweat on my face, and I wasn't feeling myself grow cold. On the outside, I was as flawless as usual. I took a good look at the bar which, in truth, seemed so out of the way and so small that I wondered how I had even found it. I looked through the windows and saw peeks of the place through broken blinds. I got glimpses of the inside, dark and somewhat welcoming, as people entered and excited from the place. I crossed my arms and looked up to the deep night sky. The temperature was dropping just as I stood there. The wind wouldn’t stop blowing. Taking a look through a small square window, I finally caught a glimpse of him. He was wearing a jean jacket and talking to the bartender like they were friends for years.

__

Once I'd been through every obstacle in life—stared down the people that I most feared, felt the most incredible pain pass through my body, felt as everything had been ripped away from me in an instant—a chill seemed to grow over my heart. Time made me learn how to face these things, and worse, with a straight and unwaivering feeling of self-confidence, maybe even so much pride that I was smug. In my heart I knew I was right and that there was nothing else that I could go through that could possibly make me feel so weak and distraught.

__

But then love is different than fear. It was the same, but it was different. And Joey Wheeler, well, I could only wonder how he was going to react. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone as it buzzed. I didn't want it to be a manager, but I didn't want it to be Joey either. I wished it was just as phantom tingling, but it wasn't.

__

_Thought u said u were an ontime person. Haha..._

__

I thought I was, too.

__


	4. Chapter 3

I’m sure people would ask: why a bar? Follow my logic if you could. As far as I was aware, Joey still had no idea that it was me that he was meeting. So, in turn, I wasn't going to give him any incentive to think that I was someone out of the ordinary. Paranoia, I suppose. Sure, maybe it was a little sneaky, but a good impression isn't always made by being flashy.

And that was all that I wanted to make: a good, solid impression. Maybe it was make up for...everything else. 

 

—////

The tightness in my stomach lasted several days. It wasn't so horrible that I couldn't draw myself out of bed, but all the same I couldn’t make myself comfortable even as I prepared to go work. Mokuba had pressured me to stay home when I got up and looked at myself, flushed, in the mirror. I never told him explicit details about what was wrong with me, but he could tell when his nii-sama wasn't okay.

I still left every morning, feeling a mess, and asI strode through the corporate building, I had a hard time composing myself and keeping my back straight from how badly my stomach seemed to contract. I didn't know what it was that had me in malaise like this. I had begun to believe my own lie—that I had eaten something that night and it hadn't agreed with me. Three nights ago. 

There was only one problem of going to work when I was sick: I had the patience of a child. I kept myself huddled in my office knowing that I was bound to do something that I would otherwise regret. I tried to redirect quandaries to other departments if it was at all possible, and I canceled in-person meetings planned weeks in advance because I thought that I wouldn't be able to sit through one of them and even try to pretend that I cared.

But there was also ‘one thing’ I was unable to divert something that was ‘urgent’ and that ‘only Mr. Kaiba can take care of’. They forced me from my little alcove of peace to go down to the Research and Development labs in the basement of the building. Right before hand, I had worked myself up to going back on to the site to see if it would cause any adverse reaction like several nights ago. I hadn't had the chance to check anything out before R & D rung again, though I had glanced and seen that I had a PM waiting for me. Goodie.

One of the lead technicians accompanied me on my way to the lab. "We're sorry to disturb you, sir," he said, punching in a key code for the door. I folded my arms over my chest and glanced around. It was always one of my habits to see if everyone at least looked like they were doing something productive. Once beyond that little barrier, I walked toward the small group that was huddled around a half-constructed machine. I knelt down beside it and opened one of the small compartments while the lead technician briefed me on the problem. Others chimed in with smaller details. I was up to my elbows in the machine, grease slicking up my forearms where I'd pulled up my sleeves. The technicians were looking over my shoulder like awed children.

I leaned back a moment, staring at all of the innards of the machine and going over it in my head. One of the technicians, having noticed my puzzled glance, brought over the schematic. It didn't take long once I realized where the root of the problem was, and it took less than ten minutes to bring it back to its semi-operable state. I turned to look back at the gaggle of technicians who seemed to gaze on with wide, disbelieving eyes. I never understood why people looked at you like you were some kind of god when you were able to solve their problems. All the same, the praised looks only made my headache worse. It hadn't fully ebbed away, and was making me ask myself why they hadn’t figured it out. That’s what they were here for!

In the midst of their thanks yous, I said: “You had to call me down to fix that?" I looked around at them. "I would hope that I didn't have to do your damn jobs. I'm busy with my own, so next time it had better be urgent! " I realized how hateful my voice sounded. Some of them looked taken aback after what I said, but I didn't pay much mind. I just wanted to go back to the office.

Before I did that, however, I had to stop off by the sink in an adjoining room and wash off the grease on my hands. It was there that I simmered down from the outburst and realized that what might have seemed simple to me was possibly very complex to them. It was always a sort of careless miscalculation on my part, but things like that always seemed to irk me.

I turned off the water and dried off my hands, and as I turned to leave, I found myself listening to the technicians as they babbled in the next room. It was assurance to me that there was nothing wrong with my ears and that everything was simple coincidence, but that aside, I took a few careful steps forward and leaned against the side of the doorframe. They didn't seem to notice that I wasn't still occupied, and I began to smile as they spoke about me like I was the scourge of the Earth.

"…his own job, right. Busy, ha. Hardly," I rolled my eyes at their statements. It was the one nearest me that was speaking, and I was almost snickering when thinking what he must have thought that my job consisted of. The one the opposite side of him responded.

"Well, I can only imagine. I mean, he's in that office all day. I heard from some of the guys that he'd been canceling everything for the past few days. I don't get why he gets so pissed at us anyways. They're his damn designs aren't they? If we can't understand them, it's his fault."

Feeling that I was about to be spotted, I moved out of the threshold and laid against the wall, my ear turned toward the conversation.

"I know what you mean," the first one said. My lips pinched together to hold back the itching smile. "I talked to Eri; you know, the one tech chick that keeps all the computers in check?"

"Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about. Doesn't she make sure that employees aren't like…looking at porn and stuff?" the second replied. I was surprised that the rest of the technicians hadn't joined in, or the lead hadn’t stopped them, but I figured I had missed it when the water was running.

"That's her. Well, her and some other guys. Anyways, she has access to any computers on the mainframe, and when he's on his, she has just as much power," maybe that's when the smile stopped. "I mean, she told me she doesn't go snooping around 'cause she likes her job, but she said that she did it on a whim one day.”

"Oh, what good stuff did she find?"

"Most of it was normal business crap. But she says that she also saw this one site that looked kinda familiar. Said that she remembered it 'cause her son's on it all the time."

Imagine what was running through my mind. The smile had long disappeared and my fingernails were digging into my opposite arm where I had them crossed. I didn't know what I wanted to do first. I could go in there and reveal that I was listening, just to make them feel worse. Force the, to continue what they were talking about while I was in front of them, but I was also considering just marching right up and finding Eri so I could do something about it. I rationalized. What harm did she have with this information? I could say that I was looking on it for Mokuba's sake. For the most part, it wasn't a lie. Plus, I knew how her job was. She could see the surface content on my networked computers, but not anything else if I really needed privacy or security. The only reason that I let anything be seen was so I let on to the employees that I followed the same standards that they did.

"What kind of site?"

"Some kiddish gaming thing. I mean, if that's what he's spending his time on..? Busy? Please…" and I just about revealed myself because rationalizing wasn't helping too much. That was when the second man seemed to do my job for me.

"Maybe he has some kind of stake in it," he explained. "Or…maybe he's one of the admins or a creator or something. If it's gaming…"

The first man silenced, and my temper seemed to trickle away. I left before I made myself anymore aggravated, and I was in my office in a matter of minutes, sitting at my desk still contemplating if I should do anything about Eri, being that she had shared confidential information. I shook my head and forgot about it. Why was I getting in knots in the first place? I didn't think it was my reputation. It was like the second technician had said; I could easily play it off as one thing or the other.

I began massaging my temples as the headache gained pressure. My computer was open, and I knew that the PM was still waiting to be read. I called my secretary in.

She stalled, her step off-beat and her mouth agape. I wondered if it was the same flush in my cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Kaiba?"

"I want you to call back those that I canceled from yesterday and try and have them reschedule for today; those from today for tomorrow, or the nearest date closest. I also want you to have them call my office directly," I ordered her. She kept looking at me strangely. I didn't say anything else to her, which usually indicated for her to leave and begin her task. I stared back at her, wondering what it was that she was wondering about. Just as I said something she asked:

"Are you okay, sir?" her voice was very meek.

I furrowed my brows. I needed to get a mirror in my office just so I could see what I looked like. "I'm perfectly fine. Just go," I said, and she finally left. I searched around for something metallic that reflected my image so I could see if there was anything on my face. I settled for the reflection in my computer screen, now black from where it had been sitting. No flush; no change. I sighed and laid my arms flat on the desktop wondering what I should do next. It was one of those moments where I felt I had done everything that was capable, yet there was still something that was missing.

Of course, I knew what it was that was missing. Just by running my finger over the touchpad of my laptop told me that.

I pulled my office phone closer to me, waiting for it to ring. I opened Wheeler's PM.

—

  _From: RedEyes_BD_

_Re: re: re: re: Subject: You're a jerk._

_You want me to treat you like the person you are then act like teh person that you want to be treated 's a pretty basic principal. Don't go callin people ignorant when youre the one thats being ignorant._

_-REBD_

—

My hand went to my cheek, rubbing to feel the small beads of sweat that were popping. The knot that had tightened in my stomach seemed to settle. My headache was still present, but I had no doubt that was for the anticipation of the ringing phone or the still hanging agitation about knowing of Eri, the snooping computer tech.

Wheeler was like the rest of Yugi and his little pests. I knew that I couldn't escape from the wrath of them or rather, the friendship and the gooeyness, if it could be called. Wheeler's annoyance and anger with me had completely flown out the window. As I read the lines two, three, twenty times, I couldn't ever hear a sour note. I wanted to find something that I could scoff at, something that I could bite back at him for. I wanted ammo.

Sure, there was probably plenty. It's pretty obvious that he's been some oversensitive idiot whose willing to be kind to a complete stranger who has been dogging him from the get go (no pun intended). I kept reading it as I tried to compose a reply, but every time that I got to the end I wasn't satisfied. Plenty of them were demeaning, pestering, or even juvenile. But I erased them all. When I finished erasing one that was a bottom of the barrel, sarcastic copy-cat message, a light on my phone began blinking, and the strange half buzzing, half ringing sound began. I picked it up.

"Seto Kaiba."

I listened to the prattle about how I didn't have the right to just drop plans and rearrange them at ‘my leisure’ and I listened to them try to guilt me about how important of people they were. It all sounded haughty and officious, but overall it was just them puffing up their chests and trying to act like adults when they sounded like they were fifth graders. I didn't stoop to apologizing to them or even telling them why their ‘careful scheduled plans’ had been tossed aside at ‘my leisure’. I just sat back in my chair, crossed my legs, and stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen.

After about the fifth caller I figured out what I wanted to reply. The fifth person, a shark businesswoman, spoke as I composed.

—

_To: RedEyes_BD_

_Re: re: re: re: re: Subject: You're a jerk._

_I'm not allowed to be who I really am. In this world, being yourself just doesn't work._

_-Blue_

—

But I tried.

"Look, I understand," I said, cutting the businesswoman off in the middle of her rant. "I had something come that was a little more pressing." My hand settled on my stomach. I hadn't sent the reply yet. I was still debating about sending it because this time, unlike those few nights about when I had sent my reply on a whim, I knew that I had to be careful. I didn't want to get too deep into something. If I went too deep, I was afraid that I would be digging a hole that I couldn't get myself out of.

"That's not my concern," she barked back. "This was planned months in advance. There couldn't possibly be something more pressing or important than the business that we've been conducting."

This is what happens when you try to be who you are and let self control out the window: "Sometimes there are things more important than business." I immediately pressed my hand against my mouth and bit my tongue. Childish. Stupid. Reckless.

I didn't care what kind of power my name alone held. I knew there were people that feared me or the thought of what I could do to them. The reason that there was such an image was because of a tight regiment of self control, and I practiced it every minute of every hour of every day of my life, and I swallowed it like bitter medicine when I found the walls trying to collapse in on me when everything was in place.

"Well then you best go running back to whatever is so much more important," she said, "because this deal is about two inches away from not happening, and I know how badly you need my alliance for you project."

How else do you expect a hardcore businesswoman to react when she's told that business isn't as important as personal matters? The thing about business was that it was a consuming and dirty thing where people become so immersed that they totally forget the actual people that they are. They forget that there is something more important than stocks and profits. Their offices are their bedrooms; their computers are their food; their board members are their families. There's a mask of emotional depth when they speak on television. They try to pretend that their families are more important than the next dollar (or million) that they could earn.

I suppose maybe I was a bit the same.

I looked to the composed reply as we sat in our respective, thought-filled silences. I scrolled over to the send button. With little reluctance I pressed it. I convinced myself, in those moments, to reserve my moments of unrestraint (though a sort of restrained unrestraint) to be split between Wheeler and Mokuba. I hoped that Mokuba could share.

After much talking, after I had regained that businessman that I was supposed to be, I was able to convince the shark back onto my side. I didn't care what she said after that. In fact, I completely let her slide out of my mind, and the next time that I heard her was when she said good bye. I hung up and turned toward my computer.

—

_From: RedEyes_BD_

_Subject: New Chain_

_Whos stopping you from being who you are? Is someone forcibly changin you or something?_

_-REBD_

_—_

Was he….worried? Was that worry that I smelt in him?

Something else popped up:

—

_You have a new friend request:_

_From: RedEyes_BD –You know, if there really is something that's wrong, you can tell me about it. Itd be easier in IM or something like that….your profile aint got much too go off of so…yeah, accept if ya would._

—

I did. Immediately I saw where his name lit up in a little chat bar that was at the bottom of my screen. I bit the inside of my cheek and closed my eyes. I heard it ping, but I couldn't look at it. Not because I refused, but because my body felt like an unravelled coil, sprung up with my hands walking along the edge of my desk. I fell to my knees. The back of my throat burned, and I couldn't catch my breath. The knot in my stomach had unwound. When I looked down at the carpet, I saw the mess. My sleeve was at my mouth and I was looking around, awestruck.

I reeled backward, trying to make my legs stand, but my body had turned gelatinous, and my breath was growing heavier as a second knot seemed to press against my diaphragm. Tears were on the brim of my eyes. I wiped them away and grasped onto the edge of my chair.

 

**RedEyes_BD: R u alright?**

 

Oh, the irony of it all. I pulled a handkerchief from my pants pocket and wiped my mouth off. I pressed an intercom and leaned with my forehead almost touching my forearms. I raised my head back up before my secretary came through the door and stopped mid stride.

"Mr. Kaiba—," she gasped.

"Don’t make a fuss; just have it go away," I said as calmly as I could. My secretary kept flashing her eyes between me and the mess on the floor, as if she was wondering if it was I who had caused the mess. I stood from my desk and stared at the IM message from Wheeler. Another popped up.

 

**RedEyes_BD:? U even there?**

**BlueS2510: No. But it doesn't matter.**

 

I shut my computer and slipped it into my briefcase. My secretary had already left, and I was about to be the same. I could keep my back straight, but my stomach was still nearly crippling me. I strode out of my office, passing a janitor as I did, and went to the elevator. In there I could stare at myself all I wanted. The silver doors showed a distorted picture of myself, and the most distinct was the thin line that my lips made was turned into a queer little smile. A happy, childish grin. The rest was just a distorted, disheveled mess; something that I knew I wasn't. What was that look? I brought my hand up to myself, probing just to make sure that the picture in the elevator was distorted.

The doors slid open and I stepped through them, my eyes shifting around to look at the employees in the lobby. The image of myself in the elevator flashed in my mind, and I turned to look at it as the doors closed to go up again. When I turned back, I was looking at everybody else feeling as though they were looking at me like I was crazy. My hand went to straighten my lapel, and I continued to the parking garage.

Once in my car, I opened my briefcase and pulled out my computer. The page was back up shortly, and I was unsurprised to see Wheeler still there.

 

**RedEyes_BD: Y wouldn't it mater?**

_BlueS2510 has gone offline._

_Blues2510 has come online._

**BlueS2510: Because. I'm sick, that's all.**

**RedEyes_BD: Sick? Like pysicaly?**

**BlueS2510: Yes. Physically. Something has come over me lately.**

**RedEyes_BD: sorry 2 hear that.**

**RedEyes_BD: Hope u dont mind me askin, but…sthere anything else wrong? Cuz its that or u got issues….**

**BlueS2510: I was correcting you so future players don't become corrupted with the wrong set of rules, if that's what you're addressing.**

**RedEyes_BD: Kinda. Look…most these kids dont really care…im not teachin inside out crap….just…enuff 2 get em thru, u no?**

**BlueS2510: …**

**Blues2510: Never mind it. I'm wasting your time, and you're wasting mine.**

**RedEyes_BD: No ones wastin no ones time. look…i get that maybe ur alittle sensitive or something….idk….but listen, we may have started on the rong foot, but we can start over. U can call me 'Red' if u'd like.**

 

I couldn't take it anymore. My stomach was pressing up against my heart, and I felt myself jerk a little. Why was I sitting there like a fool staring at the screen? My body was telling me that it needed help, and I was looking at that screen like some ignoramus just waiting for the conversation to continue. I had my hand over the keys, ready to turn, but I could feel my face heating up.

 

**BlueS2510: I can't really talk right now. I don't feel so well….**

**RedEyes_BD: Wats wrong?**

**BlueS2510: I'm about to puke. I've been like this for several days, and I don't know why.**

**RedEyes_BD: u go 2 the doc?**

**Blues2510: Something tells me it's not that kind of sickness.**

 

Once I sent that, I looked at it and wondered what I meant. I was wondering what I meant with a lot of the things that I sent to Wheeler. It was as if my body and my brain were on two separate playing fields. That was obvious now, but then it just seemed eerie, like I was being pushed forward by some odd force.

 

**RedEyes_BD: my sis told me once that sometimes love can cuase that kindof stuf. Course…thats kinda goofy….u should go 2 the doc….**

**BlueS2510: Love? That's ridiculous.**

**RedEyes_BD: u'd b amazed at wat ur body tells ya sometimes….hey, g2g. U get better Blue**

**RedEyes_BD: O, hope ya dont mind, but I figure id call ya blue. Ttyl**

_RedEyes_BD has gone offline._

 

I shut my computer and tossed it into the passenger seat. For a moment I leaned over the steering wheel and moaned. My stomach seemed to be making a slow ascent into my esophagus. I put the car in drive any made my way through the city, hardly taking in all of the people as they passed by in blurs. I was sure I was doing far over the speed limit, but it was about the most comfortable thing I had.

Love?

Love! There was no way that was it. I had a virus of some sort. I rarely got sick, but I was still human (much to the contention of many). When I arrived up to the mansion gates, I was surprised to see that there was a car that in the driveway that I didn't recognize. It was a piece of crap car. Something that was probably like a hand me down, or plucked out of someone's yard because it was the closest thing. 

I went through the gate with caution, and I parked next to the car, inspecting it thoroughly. Something told me that it was familiar, but I couldn't place it.

When I opened the front door, I was greeted by Mokuba's tumultuous laughter. I set my briefcase by the door and hung up my coat. My stomach was knocking on the doors of my lips, but I did my best to swallow it back down where it should be. I was nearly limping into the parlor.

I knew that Mokuba would have just gotten home from school, and I also knew that he wouldn't be expecting me.

All the same, I wasn't expecting to see the blonde headed mutt sitting on my couch in my living room. "Mokuba! I gotta leave! Seriously!" I heard. I pressed my hand against the wall and stayed there for a moment, watching as Wheeler stood up from the couch. "I'm gonna be late for work. If I don't get there…I'm dead."

"I'll have someone take you there," Mokuba stood up with him.

"I got my car. Luckily it's not…far…away…"Wheeler had spotted me, and so had Mokuba.

"Nii-sama! You're home early," Mokuba came around the couch and hugged me. "I hope you don't mind, but I asked Joey over for a little bit."

I looked over at Wheeler and could already feel disdain breaking onto my face. I tried to swallow it, just like I tried to swallow my stomach. It was for Mokuba's sake. "Is something the matter Seto?" I heard Mokuba ask. It seemed muffled. I was still looking up at Wheeler trying to gather my words.

"Don't you have to be at some minimum wage job, mutt?" I asked. My words were muffled, even to me. He growled at me, but it was kept low. Mokuba stood between us, and he was like a dial keeping us both calm.

"Kaiba, ya don't look so good…"Joey said. I tried to say something, but I couldn't. My body was hit with dreariness and I nearly fell over. Mokuba was holding tight to my waist, and I was surprised that Wheeler also had a hold of me.

I prayed I didn't puke.

 

—////

 

I couldn't hold it off any longer. I had to go into the bar; I refused to be called a coward. So I walked through the threshold and was immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and the buzz of voices hitting my ears. There were at least twenty people in the place, not counting Joey. Eyes were on me; I couldn't just stand there with a dumb look on my face. I took tentative steps forward so my shoes wouldn't click against the cement floor.

I mouthed his name, unable to say it; my cheeks were growing hot. No embarrassment. My heart pounded. This is what I expected love to feel like. It was still as bad as the nausea.


	5. Chapter 4

I hadn't been to many bars in my lifetime; so few, in fact, that I could count them on one hand. I drank, sure. It was primarily a social thing—there had to be something to make the annoying egomaniacs become benign. Sometimes, I would drink because I was stressed, though it was usually after work. This may have been because I was just stressed about being in a bar...for a hook up.

Enough about my habits. I had made it inside and to a barstool, struggling to find footing on awkward footrests. I was three seats away from Joey. I don't know why I did that, I just thought that it was appropriate. Well, I guess the reasons were are much simpler to deduce than that. I let myself glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I'm not going to say that his face is angelic, or any of the other mush like that.

It was him. Just him, leaned onto the bar in poor manners, hands drumming fast paced against the shellac surface. He’d brushed his hair to be better kept. He smiled ear to ear; the dim lighting of the place made his eyes stand out. There was something alluring about all of this, and my body was reacting as I expected it to.

I wore loose pants for a reason.

—////

 

I didn't know what I expected to be there when I awoke from my sudden, sickened state. From the moment I felt conscious, and remembered that it was Wheeler in my house, I wanted to lash out at him. However, when that moment came, I didn't have enough energy to even make my voice snarl at first. There was a cloth covering my line of vision, and it had long since become lukewarm from where I assumed it was once cold.

  
Mokuba, in his normal dutiful fashion, sat beside me reading a comic book. He noticed my twitching the moment it started. The cloth was removed and placed once again. "How are you feeling, nii-sama?" he asked.

My tongue ran along my teeth in search of evidence that I may have gotten sicken again, but to my relief, I found nothing, When I tried to rise, a set of hands I was unfamiliar with pushed me back down.

"Whoa there Kaib'." My head spun as I tried to reclaim my grip. I thought that the dog had to leave. Why was he still in my house? In _my_ bedroom? Even as he pushed, I fought back. There was no chiding me to lay back down, not with an interloper lingering such a private space.

There was a fiery concoction of the many weird things that had been bubbling inside my mind. The fact that I, on some level or another, still loathed the mutt for being in existence at all. He was second rate duelist, had annoying friends, an obnoxious do-gooderpersonality, and the best part was that I could add his lack of grammar skills to the mix. It was body's reaction was telling me to ignore everything that I otherwise knew. I liked to think of it like chemicals rearranging themselves and my body not adjusting well to that change. I didn't like change. Not one little bit, and I was about to fight it in any way I possibly could.

"Nii-sama lay down. You're sick, you've got a fever and everything," Mokuba chided. "Come on, lay down."

"Yeah, Kaib' listen to yer brother."

“I don't need your yapping, mutt!" I growled found my voice. My fists were clenched in the blankets. "Who said you could come in here anyways?" Mokuba had managed to push me back, and I mostly complied by hanging onto two notions: he was Mokuba's friend, and as far as the Internet was concerned, so was I. At least, in some fucked up reality.

“'Cause your ass woulda been heavy for Mokuba to carry up the stairs. So, I thought I'd be a Good Samaritan and help ya out.”

I looked over to Mokuba and pleaded that it wasn't true. Mokuba didn't have to respond to me, only smile. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands, a long breath sucked in and held there. It was too soon for any of this craziness to be happening. It was like one of those romantic comedies, and I wasn't about to be the butt of the joke.

"Geez you're a mess," Joey said as he shook his head. "Maybe if ya didn't stress so much."

"What would you know?" I spit back. I was to exasperated to even attempt to be sarcastic, so it came out as biting. Even that was draining. "I deal with far worse than this or you on a daily basis."

“Look, I got better things that I need ta be doin' anyways," he scoffed, and he turned away from and began toward the door.

When is it that you realize when you're wrong? When do you have that little click in your head that tells you that you need to stop yourself because there was something about what was going on that just wasn't right? I hated to be wrong, but all the same I was capable of covering up my foible or simply brushing it off because it was minor.

Inconsequential.

Now was one of those times that I could let it go, because I wasn't wrong to anyone but myself. But the hardest person to ignore was myself. The little voice in the back of my head would grow and press that I correct this, in the moment, when it could have been fixed.  
With Wheeler, I couldn't part that much with my pride. I was staring at his backside, and much like my nausea from earlier, I was trying to hold everything back. I had realized, even if I didn't entirely like the idea, that I liked him.  
I more than liked him.

Childish, yes, but…how else could it have been said without saying it?

The worst part began when I sat and wondered if I had been denying this for a long time. Every vile word or action, all the sarcasm…was it just a mechanism? How long had I been attracted to him? How long had my heart been telling me something that my mind refused to listen to?

I settled down when the door closed. My head rested in my knees.

"You okay, nii-sama?"

"I'm fine. I've just been feeling ill the last few days," I said. I forced myself to sit up and face Mokuba. He was unhappy at how I had turned Wheeler away. I sighed.

—

I let another month pass, and then another. I kept in touch with Wheeler just because I didn't want my annoyance of him in person to overshadow the facade that I had created on the Internet. I suppose that when I, internally, admitted some of my feelings to myself that it made the facade all the easier to cope with. It still gave me a headache.

Our friendship was…tepid. I couldn't stop myself from chiding him every so often, and at every message he sent me I was forced to hold myself back because I hated the atrocious grammar that he produced. I had to make myself laugh at it. It was what worked best.

It was despite all this that we managed something that seemed, in the least, pliable. It didn't hurt so much to bend in a way that I was unfamiliar with. Sometimes, it was refreshing.

I was well aware about how set in my ways that I was. I liked things to be in a certain order, and often my days were dictated by this. It was a pet peeve to Mokuba because this often left him little time for us to be together, though we made it always made it work. We had our fun.

With Wheeler, things seemed to be a different. I didn't have to worry about pleasing him. I didn't think I did, at least. He seemed happy to comply with my boorish schedule and found that I was on at the most awkward of times. Even if that meant I had it open on the job, though I usually never showed my status as ‘online’.

My actions with him were often brief, if there were any at all. He was fine with it. He told me that his life was hectic too, and I could only wonder how.

How much credit do you give a person though? I never thought of the mutt as being self-sufficient or having to deal with great and stressful things like I did. But stress was a universal thing.

  
We bonded over this the most.

 

**RedEyes_BD: hey.**

**RedEyes_BD: hey.**

**RedEyes_BD: hey.**

_BlueS2510 is online._  
**RedEyes_BD: Finaly. yo.**

**BlueS2510: Hello.**

**RedEyes_BD: mind if i rant?**

**BlueS2510: About what?**

**RedEyes_BD: *shrug* Jus…do ya mind?**

**BlueS2510: Go ahead. I have some free time for once.**

**RedEyes_BD:…al right jus…dont think me wierd or anthing.**

**Blues2510: …**

**BlueS2510: I won't. Just rant.**  
_RedEyes_BD is typing…_

 

I waited as he started typing something out, taking his sweet time with it. I kept looking at those ellipses for what seemed like eternity, and I wondered what exactly he would need so badly to tell me of all people. There must have been many other people that he could talk on a site like this. Then again, they probably weren't as mature.

 

**RedEyes_BD: I no that this is gonna seem like alot, and maybe stupid so...im srry. Ive had a hell of a time at work ..an my family is driving me nuts. I mean I love my family , dont get me wrong or nothin, but jus…my crazy Dad and my sister and…everyone. Its all just nuts…see, they got me runnin ragged at work cuz ive been the 'new guy' 4ever…an a course as things have been goin….i gota feelin its gonna stay that way for osme time….workin wierd shifts and…an stuff…worryin all the time bout payin rent and bills and other crap…..idk…srry...i dont mean to load all of this stuff on u…sounds fun when I read it now.. an im bein unfair….but I realy just wanted to...u know talk and...yeah...**

**Blues2510: It's fine. Life’s like that. Sounds like there’s plenty reason to not be on.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: not like i really got much room ta talk…ur always on wierd too.  
**

**BlueS2510: I work management. It takes all hours to keep people straight. Your job doesn't quite sound the same.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: its not…its dinky and stupid but itsa paycheck, u know?  
**

**Blues2510: I understand.  
**

**BlueS2510: To be honest, it sounds like your work is a little less complicated than your family. You could describe work, but not family. At least you know what you're doing at work.**

**RedEyes_BD: yea. They dont give u a roadmap for family….my sis…god i love er but…idk. Hard to explain.  
**

**Blues2510: I have a brother. Sometimes you just can't understand what they're thinking, right?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: Exactly!  
**

**BlueS2510: Heh, nice.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: it's wierd…u get all stressed ovr themsometimes…makes ya wonder if its worth it or not…then they sorta proveit to u…  
**

**BlueS2510: Oh?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: eh…ive awlays beleived stuff like that…not everythins supposed to be good, u know? Ya take waht ya can get and the rest, well…u run off that. Cuz i may not like my job so much…but then again, i love the check at the end of the week, dinky as it is. Yer jobs proly easier…  
**

**BlueS2510: I don’t think there will ever be total bliss or total depression in life. It’s full of polarities. What you say makes sense. And it depends on what you're looking at when you're talking about how hard a job is. It sounds like you’re doing manual labor, blue-collar kind of work. It's hard physically, sure. Think about what I go through though. It’s all mental. I have to maintain, plan, communicate, appraise, reject, counsel, console, develop, direct, and coordinate ALL of the, well, everything. And the paperwork. All of the never ending assload of paperwork…  
**

**RedEyes_BD: Idk…sounds better than this.  
**

**BlueS2510: I'll trade you any day.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: might hav ta take u up on that one of these days….lol. o, can i ask u a Q?  
**

**BlueS2510: You're asking one already, but sure. Go ahead.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: Smartass…dont u use chatspeak at all?  
**

**BlueS2510: Does it bother you that I don't?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: not realy, id think itd be easier.  
**

**BlueS2510: I consider myself a fast typist. I don't see the need to abbreviate myself if I can get it out in the same amount of time that you can. Now let me ask you a question:**

**BlueS2510: Is you're grammar really that bad, or is that how you actuall —|**

 

I was halfway through typing the statement, but I stopped myself. I don't know what it was exactly that stopped me. It was like a lock coming down on a door, my hands frozen overtop the keyboard. After the suspended animation, I pressed my finger to the backspace and kept hitting it until the message was deleted.

I couldn’t come up with another question, I just sat.

He responded to it.

 

**RedEyes_BD: u had a Q?  
**

**BlueS2510: No. It's why I erased it.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: ur prety decsive, i dont see ya the typin dots much…  
**

**BlueS2510: Does it really matter?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: No…guess not.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: u know…i dont know if this matters much…but i think we hit something.  
**

**BlueS2510: What do you mean?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: this feels more personal…  
**

**BlueS2510: Yeah? Well, we are friends aren't we?**

 

I had frozen again, for a few seconds, before jamming the enter button. I had all the time in the world to compose something. I was allowed to take time and compose my thoughts, but why I always wondered he would think if I took to long to respond after having been consistent. If there was anything that I ever learned from online etiquette, more than not using all caps (because those were my favourite emails to receive) is that you need to be quick. Especially on an IM system, because you've disappeared in the middle of something that was important. It created the wrong impression. It's one of those unwritten rules.

Maybe I was thinking too much into this. Maybe it hadn’t been as much time as a I thought it was. It was the word 'friend'. It had been, up until now, an arbitrary thing. As far as the admins on the site were concerned we were 'friends', by my standards it was very different.

In my mind, I was much closer to him, even if it was only some kind of lonely, brooding thought and the image of him leaving out my door after I had berated him.

He was quick to respond.

 

**RedEyes_BD: Of course. Guess ur right…never thought of it tat way…its been wierd lately. N a good way.  
**

**BlueS2510: Yeah well, stop thinking that it's weird. Even in a good way.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: k, w/e u say bossman.**

 

I don't know why him saying that struck me as funny, but I couldn't help but grin at it. It was one of those tugging and pulling smiles felt like it was infecting the muscles. I clenched my teeth to make it subside.

Someone came through the door. I looked up, very aware that my office door was open. With my glance I prompted them to speak their peace. It was then, when I looked up, that I noticed the strangest thing. The lips of my employee were moving, but there wasn't any sound. I blinked a few times and lowered my gaze, resisting the urge to bring my hands up to my ears. I wasn’t cognisant, and worse it was in front of someone who didn’t need to know that I wasn’t.

"-iba. Sir?"

"What?"

"Is there something the matter?"

My nostrils flared a moment. "Yes there's something the matter. You came in without knocking," I said. He looked at me with his face contorted.

"I…I knocked, sir," he said, and he made the motion just to add effect. "I figured you were engro…" His voice faded out again. I craned my neck to try and hear him better. "...case, I am very sorry. I wanted to give these to you, and I was going to be on my way."

He set several files on my desk that were tagged from accounting, some reports that I requested be sent up. Once they were placed he turned and left, but not before stopping at my door and looking a at me like I’d grown a second head.

"Don't you have something better to do?" I reprimanded before he could ask any questions. He left.

I put the folders in my lap and looked to the chat. I asked myself if I should’ve told him what just happened. What should it matter to him?

I remembered his sister slowly losing her sight. He would understand how something like this was. But, was I really losing my hearing? I'd been around a lot of loud things, and it was alsofaintly possible that I was also zoning out when I was chatting with him.

 

**BlueS2510: Something strange just happened.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: yea?  
**

**BlueS2510: It's hard to explain. It's like I'm only hearing half of what's around me…  
**

**RedEyes_BD: taht doesnt sound very healthy…  
**

**BlueS2510: Maybe I'm just overworking myself. I was sick a little while ago too.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: being sick and losin hearin r 2 diffrnt things.  
**

**BlueS2510: I didn't lose it, it's just going…in an out.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: makes me think of my sis.**

 

I didn't intend for him to tell me anything about his sister, but then again, it was resourceful that he brought up the topic. I could delve into his knowledge of something similar to this.

 

**BlueS2510: Is that so?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: a little bit ago she almost lost her site...got lucky and got her an op so taht she culd b better…scared me.  
**

**BlueS2510: Was her vision loss gradual?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: somwat. it was real bad at the end.  
**

**BlueS2510:…I see. Well, I have to be going now.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: u ok?  
**

**BlueS2510: Always something to stressing me out. I'll be fine.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: Promise me somethin  
**

**BlueS2510: What?  
**

**RedEyes_BD: go 2 the doc, get it looked at…so ull know.  
**

**BlueS2510: I'm not making any promises. I'll think about it.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: …  
**

**RedEyes_BD: do it.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: for me.**

 

Once again my hands were suspended above the keyboard, but this time there was nothing coming to mind. He sounded like a worried spouse, or worse, Mokuba. I could imagine Mokuba telling me something like that, or even dragging me to a doctor's office to see if there was anything wrong.

I brought my hand up to my ear and prodded a moment, wondering if there was just built up wax. I couldn't be going deaf, that was ludicrous.

 

**RedEyes_BD: u better still b there.  
**

**BlueS2510: I'm thinking….** **  
**

**RedEyes_BD: dont think, just do. Makes decsions easier. So promise me. i wont stop bugging u until u do.  
**

**BlueS2510: Fine. I promise that I will go to the doctor.  
**

**RedEyes_BD: and ull tell me what they say?  
**

**BlueS2510: Yes. I'll talk to you later.**  
_BlueS2510 is offline._

 **RedEyes_BD: u better promise mister….**  
_RedEyes_BD is offline._

 

I smiled again and closed my laptop. Our excursions never seemed so monumental until I put them in some sort of perspective. I had told Wheeler something as important as that before I had told Mokuba. What was worse was that I had made a promise to him.

I guess maybe it wasn't worse though. There was no bad feeling in my stomach, in fact I was feeling quite pleased with myself whether it be because I was amicable, or because those feelings weren’t so trapped inside of me anymore.

I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the screen. When was the last time that I had went to the doctor? I didn't even have a number I could think to call. I put it in my lap and looked toward my door as if it would give me the answer. I would have called Mokuba and asked him, but I was almost afraid to set anything up under his knowledge. I was his nii-sama; he didn't need to worry about me, but vice versa.

I called Roland instead and asked him to set me up an appointment for a doctor to see me in the office. Roland was confused, I could tell, but he didn't question the order.

Once it was all finished and I had an appointment set for the following day, I sat in my office, stupefied, thinking about how Wheeler had managed to convince me to get a doctor's appointment.

I hated doctors. Then again, I thought I hated Wheeler, too. Weird what you find out about yourself when you're bent in a different direction.

 

—///

 

Joey was comfortable. Content. He was smiling, still talking to the bartender. He had something to drink, but I didn't know what it was. The bartender came over to me and asked me for my order. I pinched my lips and looked over to Joey. He hadn't looked this way yet. I told the bartender Scotch, though I didn't intend to drink it. I looked back at Joey again, and from a better angle I could see the red flower pinned neatly to the collar of his jacket. I turned away.

After about twenty seconds, I knew there were eyes on me. Strong, honey colored eyes were trying to eat through my skull. The bartender put the drink down, and I murmured absent thanks, fingering the glass without lifting it. . I only fixed my jacket so that the flower wasn't so obvious.

"Kaiba? What the hell are you doin' here?" It was more than just an accusatory tone we might have used when crossing paths. It was more than annoyed as well; it was downright angry. I tried not to let it get to me.

"Having a drink, same as you," I said. No need to provoke him. Maybe if he sat there and thought about it, he would come to realize. But why would he? I wasn’t displaying the symbol we had agreed upon, so it obvious, to him, that I'm not who he's looking for.

"Yeah well, why dontcha go ta some ritzy joint instead of crashing all my fun?" he asked. I wondered if he was holding back a yell because it was causing him to growl.

"I don't see this place having your name on it," I said. I reached my hand into my pocket and clutched my cell phone, turning the volume down. He was already reaching for his, and I was bound receive a message. I felt it vibrate shortly after he sent it. I reached for my glass and put it to my lips, but only to wet them, not drink. He kept staring at me. "Are you expecting some kind of show? Or do you think you can blow up my head by staring at me?"

It was then that I pulled out my phone and looked at the message.

_Our nites bust! This prick I know, Kaiba, just came and ruined the whole thing..._

It’s easy to become very bitter, very quickly. It takes little for feelings to be spoiled. I let out a rough sigh and stared at the screen. I still had feelings for Joey that was for certain, but I felt a little deflated in whatever way I could be.

How could I honestly respond?


	6. Chapter 5

I didn't want to leave at that moment, even with every emotion boiled up into my chest. I wanted to sit there just to make him suffer for being so impossibly ignorant about the situation. He was too stumped to even consider the possibility of me being the person he was looking for. There were reasons that he shouldn't consider it, sure. I may not have been displaying the flower, but couldn’t he at least try to add it up?

I was losing my cool, and it was becoming uncomfortable to be in this stand-off. My hand was squeezing so hard around the glass, I was surprised that it didn't shatter. 

Beyond that, I was sweating because of weird mix of anticipation and anger.

I wanted to stand up and yell at him, to tell him who I was just so I could see the look on his face. I wanted to be spiteful and watch him as he tried to gather all of his being together and hopefully, if he gave a damn about how much he had committed over the months, get down on his knees and grovel for forgiveness.

I wanted to do a lot of things, some things that only pertained to my own little desires that may or may not have been relevant in this situation.

Instead, I just tucked the phone back in my pocket, no response to the text. I wedged my hand between my shirt and my jacket. I was going to do what I was best at: be subtle.

 

 

—////

 

 

There were so many appointments that I had had over the course of the years that if you asked me what kind of appointments I was expecting in the near future, doctor's appointments would be near the bottom of the list, just above an appointment with some higher being should I pass on.

I tried to make the meeting as obscure as I could, with the doctor entering and waiting with my secretary as if he were any other business associate. I made him wait, made him contemplate a reason he was here and, by extension, collected my own nerves as I finished up a brief teleconference. 

I witnessed him jump when my secretary called for him, escorting him a few feet and opening the door for him.

The doctor still seemed flabbergasted as he gazed around my office. Like he had no idea where he had come to. Maybe he was going to pinch himself in awe.

"Do you do that with all your patients?" I asked. He blinked.

"Do what, Mr. Kaiba?"

"Look so bemused," I said. He was fighting the urge to continue to crane his neck around at the space, instead choosing to walk forward as I held out a hand to offer him a seat in one of the chairs that was to the left of the desk. A small sitting area, a little more relaxed than a desk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a house call, or...office call?” He asked me, like it mattered what it was referred to. I didn’t deign a response as I sat. He mimed my action. “What exactly is your complaint?"

I folded my hands in my lap, and the nervousness reared it’s head again. "I've been having some difficulty with my hearing," I said.

"What kind of difficulty?"

"I'll be speaking with someone, or they'll be speaking with me and all of a sudden everything seems to go into a vacuum." I said. There was a mild amount of embarrassment on my part. Weaknesses weren't my specialty, per se, so it was hard to admit it to this man. His awe and wonder was fading as I told him this. Out of my comfort zone and into his. 

"How long has this persisted?"

I thought a moment. "A few months," I said when I remembered the dinner with Mokuba, and before that, the moment in the coffee shop. With Wheeler.

"And you're just addressing this now?" the doctor asked skeptically.

I sighed and clenched my teeth to hold my rash of distasteful comments. "Yes, because it just started getting worse now. It was only one or two instances before, I believed that I was lost in my thoughts before," I replied, trying to keep my annoyance at a minimum. I seemed to remember why I didn't like doctors; them and all their little skepticisms that I couldn't quite tolerate.

We spoke for a short while longer as he asked me a few more standard questions. After, he subjected me to a test, with what looked like antique headphones. The kind that I was sure I hadn’t done since I was grade school. 

When we were finished, and the last of my comfort had waned, I moved us back over to the desk. This had to conclude soon enough. "Mr. Kaiba, what you’re experiencing may simply be just a...product of the kind of environment you’re in. You're probably around things like...helicopters, jet engines. Things that are very loud. Machines possibly."

"Not that close," I said, and my hands spread to the environment he sat in at present. A quiet, office space with minimal voices even. I knew better. I knew his inference. That I had been close to a lot of planes and the like more due to lifestyle than anything else. But it was possible that my own technology could have caused issues. I thought back a particular moment and asked, wary: “Could electrocution cause it?" It hadn't been anything serious, nothing to take me to the hospital over, but enough to knock me off my feet and make my head spin. 

"Yes, it could," said the doctor. "You're mostly having issues with hearing higher sounds and frequencies. Usually people start losing that ability in their thirties. Coupled with some of the things you've went through it might just be starting earlier. The voices you're hearing, or not I suppose, may just be higher pitched voices so they may fade in and out."

I sighed and leaned back, still thinking. “So that's it?"

The doctor nodded. "That’s it. Nothing serious. It'll probably seem a little awkward at first.” 

A question hung on my tongue when he went quiet. A question I didn’t want to ask, but felt compelled: “Is there a possibility that it could be something else?"

I don't know why I was asking this. I should have been satisfied with the answer I was given, but there were always other avenues to be explored. Maybe it was stupid curiosity. “How do you mean? Like a disease?"

"Yes."

It was the doctor’s turn to lean back in his seat.

 

—

 

I went home early, with words jumbled in my head. Disbelieving, left with answers to questions I couldn’t answer on my own. When the doctor left, I excused myself from my office and swept through the building, feigning inspections just so I could walk, because I certainly couldn’t concentrate. When I arrived home, Mokuba was also arriving at the same time. He ran up beside me.

"You've coming home early a lot, nii-sama."

"I just needed to get away from the office."

"You're not sick again are you?"

"No, Moki, I'm fine," I said, and even huffed out a laugh.

"Nii-sama?"

"Hm?" I laid my briefcase by the door and hung up my coat. Mokuba was just staring at me with those big, childish eyes.

"You've been acting funny lately," he said.

I flinched. "Funny? What do you mean, funny?"

"Well, you got sick that one time, and then you're coming home early. Plus, you're like always online doing something, and it doesn't look like work."

Gracious, what did he think that I was doing? "Do you believe I'm trying to hide something from you, Mokuba?"

He was hesitant. "Well…yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, I don't know nii-sama. I'm just saying," he shrugged and followed me into the kitchen. "You just seem a little different lately."

"Sorry if I’ve been changing too fast," I replied, though I honestly didn't know what he was talking about. Nothing felt changed.

"It's not bad nii-sama…I kinda like it."

I arched a brow at this comment. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seem kinda happier. Less stressed, you know?" he said. He got up on his knees on a stool and was leaning against an island. "Are you talking to a girl?"

"Mokuba…"

"I'm not going to laugh at you, nii-sama," he said. I rolled my shoulders. I suppose it wasn't the most awful thing he could have asked. "It'd be a good thing. You need someone to be with."

"Mokuba—“I stole a breath and leaned on my arms across from him, eye level, “—if I was with someone, don't you think I would tell you?"

He shrugged. "I figured you were embarrassed or something…being you met her online and all."

So nonchalant about his accusations. I suddenly felt like my cheeks were growing red. At least this thought stole me away from the conversation with the doctor. “Even if I was embarrassed, I would still tell you. You're my brother; I wouldn't try and hide something like that from you."

"Okay, nii-sama," he said, seeming to be satisfied. "You better not."

“Is that a threat?" I asked, but I laughed a little bit too. I went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I should have been hungry, I hadn't eaten all day, but my appetite had gone to where ever my concentration had. 

I excused myself to my office and picked up my laptop before coming back into the kitchen. It didn't surprise me that Mokuba was gone, though it was a shame. I wanted him to stay around and continue talking, at least to ease some of the worry that was in me.

I turned on the computer and paced the length of the kitchen, just thinking. The doctor had answered my question, and I was hadn’t had further curiosity to ask him to elaborate on what it was. I gathered that it wasn't pleasant. No kind of disease was ever pleasant.

When I went online, I went to two places. The first was the forum, and I prayed that Wheeler was on for my own sake. I was surprised that he wasn't; my heart sank. My fingers were itching at the keys, wanting to tell him that I had fulfilled his promise. I just wanted to tell him what the doctor had told me, because I didn't know who else I could tell. Roland maybe, but I was almost afraid that Mokuba would find out.

I switched from one page to the next—the Wikipedia homepage. I hated this website, as far as correctness was concerned (yes, I had checked my own page) but it was a quick way to find out what I hadn’t wanted to ask the doctor to explain, Without Wheeler there to tell it to, however, to show him the explanation, I didn't want to even look at it.

I waited instead.

 

—

 

He wasn't on for several days, something I found both surprising and worrisome. Just like he was worried about me because of telling him about the hearing issue, I worried that he wasn't around because he was a constant presence. He was one of those people that were on in most of their spare time even though there was likely something better that he could be doing. I worried that he had gotten into something delinquent.

After four days (each day I was refreshing the page every so often) he finally came surfaced. I didn’t want to start the conversation, despite my eagerness. He did the job for me.

 

 

**RedEyes_BD: hey**

**BlueS2510: Hello.**

**RedEyes_BD: wat's up?**

**BlueS2510: I went to the doctor.**

**RedEyes_BD: o…u alright?**

**BlueS2510: I don't know.**

**RedEyes_BD: ur not like…goin def r u?**

**BlueS2510: Like I said. I don't know. He told me it might be because I've been around loud objects, but I haven't been around those things so much, so I asked a stupid question.**

**RedEyes_BD: i find that hard to beleive.**

**RedEyes_BD: Wat did u ask?**

**BlueS2510: …**

**RedEyes_BD: dude?**

**BlueS2510: I asked him if there was something else that might have caused it. And he said that it might have been possible…**

**RedEyes_BD: is there?**

**BlueS2510: He told me there might be one thing.**

 

 

I shared the link with him, and waited for him to look it up. As he looked it up, so did I. It was the first time that I had decided to look. And as I read through the short bit, I was worried even more. I pressed my hands against my ears and wondered if I would go fully deaf. I looked around my office. My phone rang. I picked it up and listened as the person spoke, wondering if their voice would fade out mid-conversation.

If it was the disease at all.

 

**RedEyes_BD: he siad u might hav this?**

**BlueS2510: Possibly. Possibly not. It might just be me losing a little bit of hearing a little bit early…that's the part that bothers me.**

**RedEyes_BD: how old r u? i no ur profile says 15…but obvouly not**

**BlueS2510: I'm 22. Still too young to be losing my hearing.**

**RedEyes_BD:…i hope its not this thing**

**BlueS2510: Can I ask where you were?**

**RedEyes_BD: …**

**BlueS2510: Whatever it is cannot be worse than the prospect of going deaf, Red.**

**RedEyes_BD: i was jumped**

**BlueS2510: What. Like you were mugged? Was it bad?**

**RedEyes_BD: i had 2 go 2 the doc too. busted up a little bit….nothin i cant take**

**BlueS2510: Anything broken? Anything stolen?**

**RedEyes_BD: ur worse than teh cops…lol**

**BlueS2510: Hey, don't dog me. And that’s not something you ‘lol’. Also: you’re the one that pushed to go to the doctor.**

**RedEyes_BD: i no, i no…..shut up….**

**RedEyes_BD: *sigh* i have a coupla briused ribs…like i said, not bad. sad part is i ddnt hav anthing for them 2 take.**

**BlueS2510: I'm sorry.**

**BlueS2510: I'm going to go offline for a little bit. I'm about to go into a meeting. You think you'll be on later?**

**RedEyes_BD: yea…sould b.**

_BlueS2510 is offline_.

 

 

I shut my laptop and stood up as my door opened. It was both my secretary, to remind me of my meeting, and Roland, whom I had paged in duration of the conversation with Wheeler.

I picked up several manila folders from my desk and turned to my secretary. "Is there anything I can do for you Mr. Kaiba?" she asked. I flipped open a few of the folders and scanned the documents.

"I want numbered copies of what is in each of the folders. Make enough for all of those that are attending. Also, I want to make sure that all of these get back to me. Lay them out in conference room C," I said, all the while skimming through the rest of the folders to make sure there was nothing else. Once assured, I nodded my head for her to go, and she was off like lightning. I then packed the rest of the folders in my briefcase, as well as my laptop, and I gave Roland my full attention as he cleared his throat.

"You needed me for something, sir?"

I walked out of my office. "I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

We entered the elevator and Roland pressed the button. The floor with the conference rooms was near the bottom of the building, so we had a short while before we got there. "You scheduled the appointment."

"It's not my business to pry."

I looked to Roland with an arched brow. "That hasn't stopped you in the past."

"Are you all right?" he asked, sincere.

I sighed. It was easy to goad him into asking, but when he did ask I felt a knot form in my stomach. Telling Wheeler was like talking to a wall. I really didn't have to worry about him telling anyone. But then, would he tell Mokuba? Did Mokuba know that Wheeler was talking to someone online? They were friends; certainly they shared little details like that, especially if they were both members of the same site.

"I don't know."

Roland hummed. "Was it just a normal checkup and they found something off, or were you going in for a specific purpose?"

"Never mind," I said. We were nearing the floor. If I could sweep the mess under the rug, I was going to. The only trouble was that Roland was a lot like a parent, and he didn't back down easily when he knew that there was something that was up.

"You wouldn't have brought it up if it didn't matter," Roland said. I was almost tempted to hit the emergency stop because I wanted to listen to what he had to say, but that would have been too childish. "Sir?"

"I went because of my hearing," I finally said. We were two floors away. "I was missing parts of conversations, so I wanted to see what the problem was."

"And is there one?”

"No. Yes. Maybe,” I sighed and looked to him out of the corner of my eye as the door dinged open. There were several people entering, bowing at the neck to me. I brushed by them, caught up in my own thoughts, and went toward the conference door. Roland was still following me. He could sense that I left the answer hanging, though I tried my hardest not to make it seem so. If there were any people in the world that could tell if there was something left behind when I finished speaking, it was Mokuba and Roland. A product of close quarters, perhaps.

"Which is it?"

"I'm just losing the upper range quicker," I said. "I'm getting old too fast."

Roland gave me this little, awkward smile. "Maybe it's because you're so mature, sir."

I stopped at the conference room, the members already seated and looking at the papers laid out before them. My secretary was standing inside, the manila folders in her hands. I pressed my hand to the handle and raised my chin. "Maybe you're right," I said, cracking a smile to appease him. He nodded and laughed.

"We'll talk about it later?" he asked.

I didn't answer him. I turned around and put my game face on as I walked into the conference room.

As I sat down, listening to the chorus of hellos from the members present, I could peer up and see Roland standing outside the frosted glass. My secretary put the papers in front of me, and I quietly instructed her to stand outside the door with Roland, ready to collect the papers when the men left.

As I briefed them, I kept looking to Roland's back and thinking about how there were only two people, minus the doctor, who knew about my trouble, and none of them were Mokuba. How exactly was I going to approach Mokuba about something like this? He always had the capacity to try and fix, to try and make me better inside and out, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about this.

When the meeting concluded, I watched as the men filed out, and I was left alone in the room. Both my secretary and Roland entered. I kept my back straight and my face stony. I pulled out my laptop and opened the screen again, making sure that Wheeler was still online. I then minimized it as Roland stood behind me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"I'm going to go back to my desk, Mr. Kaiba," my secretary said. I nodded and watched her off. When the thick door closed, I pressed my face in my hands.

"It's going to be alright, Seto," Roland said, and I was momentarily startled by his use of my first name. "You'll be fine. It happens to the best of us; we’re human and susceptible. But it doesn’t define you unless you let it.”

He didn't know the whole truth though, and I wasn't really willing to tell him either.

"Yes," I nodded. "I suppose I'm just being a child about this. Everything can't be perfect forever," I said, trying to make myself sound sure. Roland had been around me too long.

"Is there something else you're not mentioning?”

"If there was something else, don't you think I would let you know?" I asked. It came out harsh and cold. 

"I'm sure you would," Roland pulled up a chair adjacent to me, and he watched me, hawk-like. "I have a feeling, if you don't mind my sharing."

"If you must."

"I have a feeling that you haven't told Mokuba yet. Do you plan on it?"

I shuddered. I always hated Roland's sixth sense about things like this. I knit my fingers beneath my chin and looked away from him. I always disliked this conference room in particular—it was bland with nothing to look at or distract myself with. It's why I used it though, so that those I was speaking to wouldn't be distracted either. "Sometime," I said. "If it gets worse. It doesn't really matter if it doesn't."

Roland didn't give me a hint to what he was thinking. "Alright. I have some work I have to be doing, Mr. Kaiba," he said, returning to being professional. Conversation over. "You will be as well?"

I nodded. "I'm going to stay in here for a little bit. Tell people not to disturb me, and have all calls directed to my cell."

"Yes sir," he said, and he left me to my peace. I rubbed my temples until the little pounding headache went away. I returned to the page and saw that Wheeler had seen that I was on and was trying to communicate.

 

 

_BlueS2510 is online._

**RedEyes_BD: wb**

**RedEyes_BD: so the meeting go ok?**

**RedEyes_BD:….geuss ur not ther…**

**BlueS2510: I'm here, I was just speaking with someone else momentarily.**

**RedEyes_BD: u should put up 'busy' then….**

**BlueS2510: …**

**BlueS2510: I'll keep it in mind for the future. So, back to the fact that you were mugged…**

**RedEyes_BD:…*sigh* its not so wierd u no….not where i live…i was comin home from wrk when it happened tho…**

**BlueS2510: Anything I can do?**

**RedEyes_BD: …yah, u can…sheesh….ur talkin 2 me arnt u?**

**BlueS2510: I mean more than that.**

**BlueS2510: I don't know what I mean…we probably live halfway across the world from each other.**

**RedEyes_BD: yea…ddnt think of that.**

**RedEyes_BD: promise ur not a stalker?**

**BlueS2510: Do I seem like a stalker?**

**RedEyes_BD: …girls don't no there talkin to pedos….im jus bein cautius.**

**BlueS2510: I promise to you that I'm not….though I figured you would have more faith in me than that by now. We've been talking what? Five months maybe?**

**RedEyes_BD: *shrug* somethin like taht. i live in a little place called domino city.**

**BlueS2510: Wow...**

**RedEyes_BD: yea yea…its names funny.**

**BlueS2510: That's not what I was referring to.**

**RedEyes_BD: O.o what else coud u b?**

**BlueS2510: Take a random guess, Red.**

 

 

He was silent for a few moments, and I was praying for some kind of large type of fireworks when he finally connected point A to point B. It wasn't as though he couldn't. I crossed my arms and watched as it told me that he was typing.

 

 

**RedEyes_BD: u gotta b freakin kiddin me! U realy…theres no way that u live in domino…ur a frakin stalker….**

**BlueS2510: I AM NOT a stalker…it's just plain coincidence. Don't you believe in those?**

**RedEyes_BD: wow….**

**RedEyes_BD: thats…scary….**

**BlueS2510: What do you think I thought when you told me? At least I can keep my head about it.**

**RedEyes_BD: so…**

**RedEyes_BD: geuss u could do somthin huh?**

**BlueS2510: Hold your horses.**

**BlueS2510: You're going to make me into a stalker if something like that happens. We know little bits and pieces about each other, nothing to meet in real life or anything of the sort.**

**RedEyes_BD: but we coud 1 day…right?**

**BlueS2510: When we were both comfortable with it, I suppose yes.**

**BlueS2510: Hell, you know more about me than I know about you anyways.**

**RedEyes_BD: i no ur a manager. i no u hav a little borhher, and that ur kind a grammer nazi. Ur 22 and….got a hearin problem. And u live in domino. That aint much.**

**BlueS2510: And I know that you work menial labor, have a sister, have no grammar abilities, that you got mugged…and you live in Domino. So let's even up this equation a little bit, shall we?**

**RedEyes_BD: yah…lets see…im about ur age. Year older or so…**

**BlueS2510: Ah. So you lie like I do?**

**RedEyes_BD: easier 2 b freinds with ppl when they think ur them…**

**BlueS2510: True.**

**RedEyes_BD: y dont we kick this up a notch?...this ….relationship thing.**

**BlueS2510: How do you mean?**

**BlueS2510: I do have a girlfriend, in case you're curious. I’m not interested, if you’re interested in me.**

**RedEyes_BD: NO! that was not wat i was talkin bout….**

**RedEyes_BD: im not gonna lie tho…i am bi...dont no if u r...still not what i was talking about. i was thinking that mabe we could…idk….txt?**

**BlueS2510: You want my cell number?**

**RedEyes_BD: yah…if its k with u.**

**BlueS2510: ...**

**RedEyes_BD: i swear i won't like…call u late…or at all…i wont txt late…i wont send pics…i wont do searches or anythin….ill leave this as anyomos as pssible. Cros my heart and hope 2 die.**

**BlueS2510:...Fine. But I'm PMing it to you.**

**RedEyes_BD: k….ill give u mine 2…so u send and I send, and i gotta go.**

**Blue S2510: Alright. Talk to you later.**

**RedEyes_BD: ttyl blue**

_RedEyes_BD is offline._

 

_You have one (1) new Private Message (PM)._

_BlueS2510 is offline._

_You have sent RedEyes_BD a Private Message (PM)._

 

 

I checked the PM and then pulled out my cell phone, sighing. This was one of those moments where I was wondering if I would ever draw a line. Really though, was there a line to draw? I suppose I had already, unintentionally. I lied to him about having a girlfriend so I wouldn't have to worry about advances. Should I have really done that though? Why did a I expect there to be advances in the first place? Did I expect this to go anywhere?

Before I could think any further, I looked down at the sound of my phone receiving a text.

_Makin sure it works. Txt bac if it does_

I leaned by head back and closed my eyes after typing in something and hitting send.

He was bi. Who would have thought?

 

 

—////

 

 

When Joey wasn't looking, not that I expected him to be, I took an actual sip of the Scotch. I then pulled the flower out of my jacket and set it in the liquor like it was a vase. I took one last look at him before pulling out my wallet and paying for the drink. After that,I pivoted on my heel and began out of the establishment expecting to never lay eyes on him again—at least not with the intention.

I pulled out my phone as it buzzed again. Another text. I had to be a glutton for punishment and look.

_U comin? I realy wanna c u_

I erased the message and began to cross the street, my thumb swiping over the buttons until his name was highlighted on my contact list. With one press of a button, his name was gone, and all the others shifted upwards. Back to reality.

Except that reality was extremely quiet. Quiet, with bright lights blaring just to my right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The disease was originally something that I had researched and everything, but I rather like it without mentioning anything at all about what it might really be.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Joey’s texts are pretty distinguishable:
> 
> Joey’s texts are underlined.  
> Kaiba’s are just italicised.

Sure, maybe it seems a cliché point to this story. What else could blaring lights mean when you're in the middle of the street? I'm not trying to embellish this story; I think it has enough interesting going on within it. I mean, really, how many people started a relationship over that kind of website?

So there I stood, in the middle of the road, like a dumb animal. I didn't hear the car, though I was told that the horn blared. I didn't hear any of the people around me that were standing, yelling at me. I didn’t register the others, awestruck, with their phones out ready to text someone, or call the police, or take a picture because, really, this was a one and a million chance. It was me, after all. But then, I did hear one little voice. It was faint, like it came from the end of a tunnel. My hearing must have came back at the moment where it was least opportune. Where everything was about to climax.

"Get out of the street you dumbass!" The voice was unmistakable. "Kaiba!"

Before I could move an inch, I felt something shove against my shoulders. My phone fell from my hands and my feet sputtered forward at the push. I was still a little dazed, and all seemed as though it was just an illusion, if nothing else. 

But of course, if Joey pushed me out of the way, that meant he was the one still standing in the street.

 

 

—////

 

 

Having Wheeler’s number to text back and forth was certainly much smoother. If there was one thing I was always seen with, it was my phone. It was easier to carry around than my laptop, and it made things look a lot less like I was communicating with someone and more like I was trying to work on something, perhaps a little too intensely sometimes. I didn't make it obsessive. I wasn't like some teenage girl who had their phone glued to their hand. If he sent me a message, I didn't always respond, and if I sent him a message it was the same way. We had lives, and we respected those lives.

Speaking of lives…I lived with my little problem without there being another episode. Three months after Wheeler had asked me if would could text, three months after I had been seen by the doctor, I was convinced that the doctor was right. This was nothing more than a product of my often unique environment. I accepted it, and I lived with it without it interrupting my life. If there was a moment that it would flare up, I would simply wait for it to pass and ask someone to repeat themselves. People never questioned me about it. After all, I had a lot of things on my mind, right?

The thing about giving Wheeler my number was that he was no longer 'Wheeler' in my mind. I couldn't get myself to be hateful and call him that anymore, because he wasn't just 'Wheeler'. He was 'Red', or more importantly, he was 'Joey'. There was no bitterness behind it anymore.

I wondered how blind I had been to my own feelings. How much I really thought I hated him, only for it to be a lack of even footing. One particular story that had come to mind was something that happened to Mokuba when he began junior high. It was a new place for him, a small fish in a big pond, and he came home about a month or so in and he told me how much he hated somekid—I couldn’t recall his name—because he was always pushing other people around. I never said much to Mokuba, only told him to tell me if he ever had any problems with this kid.

"Alright nii-sama," he said, and the conversation was over. I didn't think about it anymore than that. There was always going to be someone like that in a school. At one point it was Joey, I believe. The fact that Mokuba hated this kid purely based on actions that didn't effect him wasn't so surprising either, he was by-and-large much more empathetic than me. It wasn't until halfway into the school year that he mentioned, during dinner: “Hey, you remember that one kid I told you about?" 

"I believe so.”

"Well, you know how I said I hated him and stuff?"

"Yes.” I was sure he was about to tell me that he had become the target.

Mokuba ducked his head. "I started talking to him today, asked him what was wrong, why he was so angry. He just, like, told me everything. Like about how he was adopted and stuff, like us,” Mokuba said. I briefly wondered how far that 'like us' extended.

"So do you still hate him?" I asked, ignoring my inane little wonderings. It didn't really matter; Mokuba just wanted me to listen.

"No, I mean, not if I know that, you know?"

I nodded.

It was like that with Joey. He referred to a lot of things in his life, and if I barely prodded him, he was willing to explain them to me in great length. I was a little more closed in than him. My life wasn't an open book that people could read, and even if I did trust him with minute things, I didn't trust him with my deeper secrets. I guess I was afraid that he would find out it was me before I wanted him to know. 

This relationship, if it could so be called considering my want to keep it anything but, had a weird little twist of passion in it. I couldn’t exactly explain what it was. We weren't doing anything that was out of the ordinary. There wasn't any kind of loving or endearing words said to one another— at least, not endearing in the romantic sort of way. But the passion came from that strange, humane connection. That way of feeling you understood someone even though they weren’t right in front of your face. The fact that we, as far as Joey was concerned, had never met face to face or dealt with each other's lives on a tangible level, yet we were able to console each other, make each other laugh, cheer each other up after a hard day. It was that twist of passion that drove whatever we had.

It was another reason why I was afraid of sharing details that were deeply intimate.

Joey was someone that I was finding out about; a different light was shed on a character that I thought I already had figured out. It was at this point in time, somewhere about eight months into this strange 'relationship', that I decided that I didn't want that almost child-like trust to be broken. Every time he asked to meet me for real, I would decline for whatever reason I could muster. He couldn't understand my vehemence, but I kept telling him that it was still too soon, and then, of course, he would list all the things that he knew about me, and to appease him I would list all of the things I knew about him.

I didn't like being afraid of this situation; I had resolutely drawn my line in the sand. It felt was like I holding back happiness or euphoria. It wasn’t something that was meant to be stopped, and it built up in me like water in a clogged drain. It had to overflow sometime. 

There was one specific reason why I was afraid of us meeting for real. I kept envisioning the kind of volcanic scenario that would occur between us. Years of malice and name calling, plus the happenstance where we came face-to-face because of Mokuba; it was so mentally strange and confusing. It's easy to hold yourself back in body; in mind, there is a completely different set of circumstances going on.

It began coming to head around the eight month line. Anymore, Mokuba was getting to the Turtle Game Shop by getting a ride from Joey and being brought home by him. Then, he came and asked me around seven o’ clock one Friday night if I could take him over because they were having some kind of get together. I agreed, reluctantly.

Mokuba was quiet the entire car ride over, and when we came up to the shop, there was no one waiting for him outside, but there were lights on inside. He leaned over and hugged me before pulling his overnight bag out of the back and getting out of the car.

He went up to the door as it was being opened. There was a sudden pang inside of me. It was, of course, Joey who greeted him and ushered him into the house. But while Mokuba went in, Joey stood outside the door in a sentinel-like fashion, and I could only wonder only what exactly it was that he was staring at.

Panic set in my nerves like ants skittering to a grain of sugar. It seemed was slow at first, maybe one or two crawling up my back, but then the same feeling hit in my stomach; nothing large or obscene, just enough for me to know that something was off. When Joey walked closer, it spread out and attacked. I could feel my heart begin to pound the slightest bit faster, and my nerves were sending out little shots, jolting in the tips of my fingers and making my toes curl in my shoes.

What to do? He was approaching me like there was something that he wanted to say. Do I get out and confront him or keep comfortable in the car? With an inward sigh, I killed the engine and opened the car door. Joey stopped in his tracks as I got out. 

"Something ya want?" he asked me.

"You were the one approaching the car, mutt,” I said. There was something about Joey that seemed different, though I couldn't exactly place what it was. He closed the distance between us, but remained out of arm’s reach. "Well? I don't have all night."

I crossed my arms tight. My posture was a little more rigid than usual, just so that I was sure that there was no hint of my heart pounding. Why was I so scared of him figuring it out? It seemed so trivial. I was the one who had given him so much to go on in the first place.

"I was gonna ask if you were all right," he said hotly. Still, I could hear the sentimentality in his voice. "’Cause the last time I saw ya, you were all…sick and…passin' out, but now I guess it don't matter,” Joey said. He was half turned away, his hand waving at me dismissively. My shoulders dropped a few inches.

"Why do you care?" I asked. Joey stopped just short of the door and looked over his shoulder.

“‘Cause I'm a human being, rich-boy. I give a crap about people even if they don't deserve it,” Joey replied. There was something else that was hanging, still wanting to be said. I didn't risk moving forward, but I pressed my footing a little further into the ground. "Heh, nothin' witty, eh? Hard to mock humility ain't it? 'Specially if you've never felt it, I bet."

There was something weird about his tone. He wasn't being cruel or obnoxious. He was quiet and reserved about it all, but that was probably because we could see Mokuba where he was peering out the window.

I dug my fingernails into my arm and clenched my teeth behind closed lips. I didn't want to be mad at him; really, it all felt like an act. I wasn’t really angry with him for such a callous comment. The thing was, I had heard so many of these before. It didn't really sting, but it carried weight with it.

I turned away from him and opened the car door. I wanted him to know that I was all right because it would throw him off guard. "By the way," he added, as I was half slid into my seat, "you might wanna go to the doc. You're all pale and stuff. Looks like you're ready to pass out again."

"I don't need your diagnosis, Wheeler." I said, and I slammed the door closed. Just as I did, I pulled out my cell phone and texted something quickly.

 

_Love is complicated…_

 

I waited for his response. He was already in the Turtle Game Shop, but I had a feeling that he was going to respond to the text.

Shortly after I sent that message, I zipped out of there. Mokuba was still hanging out near the window, probably watching me for me to leave.

I don't make it a habit to text in the car. If I took phone calls, in the least it's on speakerphone. I tried to set a good example for Mokuba for whenever he got around to driving as well. But with Joey, well, considering what just happened, I couldn't refrain. Of course, I wondered if he would respond since he was in the company of others. It was Joey, was all I told myself. That's all that needed to be said.

Somewhere about halfway home, I heard my phone give blip, and I pulled it out in front of me when I was stopped. I took a second to check around me. Though the city was always a crowded place, there was a scarcity of cars this night.

 

_ Smthin up with ur gf? _

 

I cracked a grin. That was what he was thinking of, of course. It was a natural conclusion considering what lies I had already fed him.

What does a lie get you, really? Lying to Joey really had no great impact. Not on me. It was a line I made so that he didn't cross it, but I also so I didn’t want cross it. If I could keep up the façade, I told myself, then there was no trouble. I just needed to convince him that it was true. The trouble was this: what I could say that he would or wouldn’t believe? Sometimes, the hardest part about lying was making it seem like you weren’t lying. Trying to make a believable truth out of something you conjured out of thin air.

I believed that he would believe anything I told him, because there really wasn't a wrong and a right. Not in a pretend relationship.

 

_Yeah. I tried to be sentimental and she called me callous._

_ Wow…cold. _

_She might be right. She says I dont have any humility about things._

_ Wat wer u guys doin? _

_Sitting on the couch doing nothing in particular…I leaned over and tried to be nice and she said that I never asked her how she felt._

_ Do u? _

_Apparently not enough for her tastes._

_ Wher is she now? _

_She left. Said that she had to go home and go to bed…that she had work tomorrow._

_ Super cold huh? _

_Pretty much. I could understand if I didn't talk to her, but we talk all the time. Just because I don't ask her that she's okay every two seconds like she does me…._

_I dont tink thts th pnt._

_What is then?_

_ Mayb she ws feelin crppy or smthin, u dont no. _

_Maybe she was, but usually she tells me when she's had a rough day or something like that. I don’t see the point._

_ U have 2 make moves 2. _

_What's that got to do with anything?_

_ Its evrythin. _

_I can ask her anything, anytime. We trust each other like that. But she asks me all the time if I’m okay and it annoys the hell out of me, I’m sure it would her too._ _I care about her a lot, I tried to tell her that..._

 

 

I wondered how much this paralleled my and Joey's 'relationship'. I did want to be that kind of sentimental with him. Was, I thought. Say we were together, really together, I wouldn't be stupid and neglect how he might be feeling. I know what love is. I can watch humanity and just as well understand it as if I were living it. People are great specimens to watch, and when you step back, you get to see what foibles they make in their relationships. You can catalogue it and use it for reference material later.

But maybe Joey was right. The whole time I was standing in the parking lot, erect and cold, I kept having things come to mind that I wanted to say to him, and yet I knew better than to utter them. I gave a damn about this…

What was ‘this’ exactly?

A…con. I was conning Joey into believing he was talking to someone that gave a damn about him if we were to meet each other in real life. But with the reputation of real life, well, I knew what would happen if I started to suddenly be nice to him, not to mention reveal the fact that it was me that he was opening up to all this time. He would probably try to convince Mokuba to call the psych ward and have them take me away. Or maybe he’d do it himself, if he did care.

 

_ Love is cmplicted smetmes…u just seem afrd _

_I am not afraid._

_ So u say… _

_Because its true. Women are complicated. You probably have it easier if youre with a guy._

_ Beleive me tats more cmplicted. _

 

I was about to ask him how it was, but I didn't really feel like delving into that social-political commentary. It seemed like it would be a conversation that would end up going in circles.

I had long since been home and, while in the middle of working, was keeping in touch with him. I wondered if I was bothering him while Mokuba was over, but if I was he would have either told me or would have just stopped texting me entirely. I hoped.

I opted to get out of the conversation instead. At least that way I wouldn't be bothered while I worked, and Mokuba had all of his friends engaged with him.

 

_Hey I have to go. Shes calling me._

_ K. Ttyl. _

 

What did I want to happen to the whole fake situation?

That question plagued me even as I worked. It wasn't a prominent thought. It was more like something that would poke its head in and out everyone once and a while when I began trying to think deeply on something.

My home lab was a place to play with my thoughts on projects that may or may not be used later. Of course, other thoughts managed to follow me in there from time to time. I had reserved the room for all the gadgetry and the intricacy that went with such. It was a place where the entire world ceased to exist and I could go on working endlessly—at least until Mokuba drew me out of such an isolated existence for something more concrete. I had spent upwards of 36 hours in that room without batting an eye, barely getting tired or noticing time pass.

In a way it was a lot like a bathroom is to most people—a sanctuary.

I hated that Joey was entering my thoughts in a place where the outside world was supposed to be forbidden. Of course, I was the one that had let those thoughts in. Many times in the course of working, I forced myself to stop and think about the relationship. The problem was, it ended up turning out more like an algorithm instead of being something that was more abstract like relationships were. That question kept popping up: What did I want to happen with this whole fake situation?

I drew on the conclusion that it was—outwardly—a con and nothing else. Something to make me seem more interesting and different on the surface than I actually was. That much was obvious. Deeper than that, however, came the idea that maybe I wanted to pretend that I was already in a relationship that was not unlike mine and Joey’s, and making a hypothetical situation made it easier to see what the possible outcomes were if he were directly involved.

It was convoluted, that much was true. It made my head hurt just thinking about it. Algorithms were easier.

And people wonder why I like machines so much.

 

—

 

The encounter and the subsequent conversation led to something that I should have seen coming but didn't really think about all too seriously at first: Mokuba.

Mokuba truly was a big factor in all of this, because he was the one that I had to worry about the most when it came to the truth about this whole mess. Him and Joey being in the same room while I was texting Joey could have likely been catastrophic if Joey shared anything about who he was talking to. When Mokuba came home, I was braced for him to say something to me about it, no matter what it was. When he said nothing, I felt that I was in the clear.

It was at dinner when he caught me off guard.

I had made it a habit of mine not to have my phone out when I was around Mokuba. Not just because of Joey, but generally for etiquette. If he ever saw me with my phone out around him, it was brief and for business. When I felt it buzzing in my pocket that evening, I knew that it was Joey; I wasn't tempted as we sat in a comfortable silence while eating. Mokuba could still hear it through the fabric and said:

"You know, Joey was texting someone a lot last night, like, right after you dropped me off."

I held back any immediate emotions and simply looked to him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, I tried looking over his shoulder and stuff and he was being goofy and holding it away from me and stuff.”

I shrugged. "He cares about privacy," I said and, realizing that I wasn't usually so casual about being friendly, added: "Surprisingly.”

"Nii-sama…"

Again, I shrugged. "What's it matter to you who he was texting?"

"I don't know. Just doesn't seem like him. He's like you in a way," Mokuba said. I know I made myself sneer at that comment, and Mokuba responded with a very stern look, continuing, "he doesn't like to be rude when he's around people. I thought maybe it was his sister, and I asked him, but he wouldn't answer me."

So many things that I wanted to say but was forced to hold back for the sake of anonymity.

"Now that I think about it, maybe he’s really like you," he added after I said nothing.

"There's more than one way that J-Wheeler is like me?" I asked, scoffing.

Mokuba smirked instead of being indignant; I hoped that it wasn't my foible that caused that look. "Well, you were telling me about stuff you were doing online."

"No, you were asking me questions and making assumptions about what I was doing online," I laughed a little bit so it wasn't too strained.

"You practically admitted it," Mokuba fired back. "But anyways, I'm thinking that maybe he's doing that too. Finding a girlfriend and not wanting anyone else to know because the others will rag on him and stuff."

"Well, I suppose there is someone for everybody," I said, meaning to be sarcastic but realizing, a little too late, that it hadn't come out completely the way I planned it to.

Mokuba smiled. “Like there's someone out there for you?"

I clenched my jaw and tried to think of a response that wasn't so callous. This was something that Mokuba had been pushing, and being crass about it was going to get me nowhere. Like asking me in the restaurant when I was going to be with someone; simply deflecting may have been comical at the time, but it was a little bit overwhelming in the long run.

"Mokuba," I began seriously. He set down his fork. "Given the time, I think I'll find somebody. There's just a lot of things that I do and it leaves little time for personal stuff, you know that," and I could see the semi-downcast look in his eye where he knew that I was talking about him. "Love isn't simple, and it isn't quick or cheap like some dime store romance novel. If I do happen to find someone, it would probably be slow and tedious and bore the hell out of you. Like I said before, if I am ever with someone, I will tell you. I can't leave something that enormous out of your life, because, in the end, your opinion will matter if I ever do get into a relationship."

Mokuba’s cheeks began to pinken. "Nii-sama…if you're happy with someone, it doesn't matter what I think."

"Yes it does," I said, and I hoped that the conversation was over. All of this was because of Joey texting. It amazed me where conversations could lead.

"Then can I tell you something?" he asked, hushing his tone.

"Of course."

"I think that, maybe, I…like this girl," he said. I leaned in, smiling, and let him talk about it. In the end, he was just as shy as I might have been about it. It was sweet.

 

 

—////

 

 

I got up off my knees and whirled around just in time to see Joey as he was clipped by the car. Not hit. Clipped. It was still more than should have happened in the first place. Worry welled up in my chest and drowned my lungs to where they were unable to expand. I couldn't see Joey after he had bounced off the side of the now stopped car.

The driver was stun-locked and sitting in the car, but I was walking forward, dusting off the knees of my pants and flicking the crumbs of road from my palms. I walked slow and wary towards the rear of the car, the back lights making out a few feet of pavement and stretching out his shadow like the black smoke of a fire.

I couldn’t resist kneeling down to him, but I wanted to caress him and make sure he was alright. He was rendered unconscious, and I could immediately see where blood was trickling out of a gaping wound in his left arm. Clutched in his hand were the two paper flowers. So he noticed.

There were others around us dialing for help. I just stared and hoped that his eyes would open. His face the mess of blood that dripped down his nose and chin, eventually staining his shirt. "Joey…"I muttered, and I was finally able to take a breath. My hand rested on his right arm and clutched his jacket. I clenched my teeth as anger almost burst from me. "Wake up, Joseph! Don't you do this to me!"

I'm not sure if it was selfishness to demand him be awake, but I just wanted to see his eyes and see if they were in passion or hate. 


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to edit, mostly because I think when I originally wrote I was really, really trying to be a bit, I don’t know, edgier? Flighty? I wanted to tone that down. It’s almost eight years old, so there was plenty that needed fixed...
> 
> Like the adverbs, O the adverbs.

Despite it being an over-used trope, I stared at Joey and found myself willing him to wake up, just by a glance. I could hold onto Joey’s arm all I wanted, yell at him all I wanted, that didn't mean he was going to wake up for me if his conscious wouldn't let him. For all I knew his brain was herniated, and I was knelt down beside him like a fool.

I gained my bearings after a few moments, and I eased my arms beneath him. I knew that I should have just let him lay; I knew I had the potential to make it worse because I had no idea what was wrong with him, but I did anyway. 

His head rested lulled against my shoulder. His body was completely limp in my arms, and I fought to not clutch him too tightly or weakly. I didn’t want him to fall. The flowers had dropped out of his hand as he was shifted, and I looked to them until they blended in with the blaring red and blue lights. Emergency personnel asked too many questions for me to be able to follow their lips—I was hesitant to admit that maybe I was in shock as well.

With reluctance, I handed Joey over. I didn't get in the ambulance with him. I was still answering questions when it left the scene. When everything was said and done, I turned and searched the for the flowers Joey had dropped, finding my phone first, and then the flowers further away. I tucked them both where I once had only mine.

I drove home in a sobered silence. 

 

 

—////

 

 

I had all but forgotten most of the troubles I’d been having with my hearing, mostly because it hadn’t reared its head again. It seemed as though it was a combination of my mind playing trick on me, that what the doctor said was right, and that my paranoia was misguided and pointless.

But then there was a meeting, plain as the rest of them, some kind of offer for KaibaCorp to subsidise...something. To be honest, I don’t remember those details of it. What I truly remembered was, as I was sitting there in the midst of a negotiation, that every sound went blank. As if the vacuum of space had opened up in my conference room. I tried to play it off. It was just an episode, I figured. I didn't need to know every detail of what was being said.

Then, in a burst, it seemed like an atomic bomb had gone off inside my head. I was waiting for my ears to start bleeding because of the intensity of the sound, though the feeling never came. I couldn't help but bring my hands to my ears like a five year old, determined to believe that it was something that had gone on outside of my head instead of inward.

My eyes skipped from one person to another, looking either disgusted or confused, and as my hearing partially returned, I heard: "If you don't like it…"

I wanted to fall out of my chair and curl up on the floor. The bombing sound hit again, my body tensing to the shockwave. I forced my hands down and clenched my teeth, thinking maybe that I uttered something about a terrible migraine. The professionalism was completely tarnished, but the pain was almost too overwhelming. They probably thought that I had an aneurysm (of anger, to them) and at first I considered it. My head felt like it had grown its own heart and was beating.

I took a deep breath, composing myself, and waited for it to stop. My secretary pushed the other businessmen out of the room, promising to reschedule. After about fifteen minutes, the pain simmered down to a mellowed prickle before going away without explanation. It was then that I come to notice that all sounds had suddenly dropped off, and that everyone’s words were muffled, with me catching about half of them. 

My secretary was ready to phone for an ambulance, but I did my best to convince her that it was only a migraine. When she told me that it could be more than a migraine, and I considered everything, I told her not to call, but that I would go. 

Roland ended up driving me, not trusting me to be on the road if something else major might happen. When I was in the back of the car, I received a text from Joey. Leave it him to have the most inept timing. Or the best. I couldn’t tell.

 

 

_ Yo wats up? _

_I think my head just exploded._

_ That aint good. _

_No its not. I don’t know what it is but I’m not hearing as well._

_ Jesus ya gonna c a doc? _

_Yes, but I think I already know what the answer is._

_ Tat thing u mentioned? _

_Yes._

 

 

I needed something to deflect away from this conversation. It was going to be numb, cyber hand holding, withJoey trying to console me, and tell that everything was going to be okay. It was his nature; he was caring to a fault. He just didn't have the right degree to assure me that, though I’m sure it would have especially sentimental if I had let him try.

To move away from the topic, I said:

 

 

_Red…I broke up with my girlfriend._

_Rly?_

_I guess that encounter with her just summed everything up. You were right._

_ Not a good victry 4 me tho. _

_Its okay. It’ll be for the best I suppose._

_ Mayb _

 

 

I always had a measured procedure to fight fear and anxiety. It happened to everyone, it was just a matter of masking it the right way. But this time? This time was different. It almost felt like my heart was being squeezed until it popped. How was I going to deal with this if it was permanent? How was I going to be able to run the company? How were people going to look at me if they knew I had this weakness? Was I going to have to learn sign language to talk to other people? I brought my hand to my neck, my fingers somewhere near my throat, pressing in, and it felt like disappeared even though it still existed in the back of my throat.

 

 

_I’m scared Red._

_ B/c of the thing? _

_Yes. I don't know what to think of it…it scares me. It makes no sense._

_ Lots of thngs dont. How life is. _

_I don’t even know what to say right now. I just want to talk. And...I need to ask if would bother you if I couldn’t hear._

_ Y would u think i would b? _

_I don’t know._

_ I told u about my sis. U should no how i feel. _

_But you fixed her. What is this can’t be fixed?_

_ I would love her no mater what _

_I guess._

_* Hug*_

 

 

I have to admit, that one caught me off guard. Even if it was just letters on a text, it was the most endearing thing that had happened between us up to that point. I curled my lips and glanced up to see where we were. The hospital loomed in the distance.

"We're almost there Mr. Kaiba,” Roland announced. I nodded, somewhat relieved that I could understand Roland. But then, there was no one else in the car. No other noises.

I tried to think back to the description of the disease, though it had been a while since I had seen it. I wanted to remember it, and I felt confident that I did, but that was mostly because I didn't want to actually have to look again. It would hit a little too hard.

 

 

_Thank you._

_ Its wat im here 4. _

_I know. I appreciate it greatly. I’m about to head into the doctors office. I’ll tell you about it later, alright?_

_ K. and no matter wat it is…its ok. _

_Yeah._

 

 

It was probably easier to say "doctor's office" than it was to say "ER". I had a feeling that if I told him I was going to the emergency room that he would freak out and really try to come find me. I was grateful for my careful word choice. Or just lucky. In that span of time shortly after the incident, everything seemed a little bit fuzzy, though I knew that I was fully conscious. I was so overwhelmed by everything, all of the emotions pooling in my stomach, that I was placid with shock.

All the emotions…not to say I have anything against them, that would be sociopathic, but I have a feeling that I'm not the only person in the world that thinks that we would be able to survive without them for just a little while.

I tried to tell Roland that I was fine, that it had gone away, but he refused to turn around. He opened the car door for me and walked with me towards the entrance. I kept my hands to my side, afraid of flailing them about as if suddenly compelled, while I spoke with the nurse at the reception desk. As I did, I clutched my phone as some kind of lifeline. It was strange, to stand there holding onto a phone as some kind of comfort. It was plastic and metal with a micro-circuit board, and yet it was comforting and consoling.

Roland had sat down, and I sat beside him. I felt there was nothing tangible in the world other than a throbbing head and my phone. “This should be quick, sir,” he said as if reading my mind. 

I looked over to him. I was lucky he had a deeper voice, because it was easier to hear.

"I'm sure."

 

—

 

It took hours. It was an ER, and I wasn’t the precise definition of an emergency.  At some point, while they had made sit wait for long stretches while they did their tests,I wanted to play the celebrity card. About the only reason I didn't was out of fear. I didn't want to be here, and and I didn’t want anyone else to know, either. I hadn’t even called Mokuba. I suspected that some of me didn’t want this to even be real.

After it all, they gave me an awkward diagnosis: a migraine. I say awkward because I had, unconsciously, diagnosed myself. I looked to the doctor, puzzled as to how it could be a migraine, having had them before, with the intensity of the sounds, and he simply shook it off as saying it was likely sensitivity intensifying it. I was almost gone, almost away from this, and asked a stupid, curious question: "Then why can't I hear right?"

The doctor stared at me dumbly, and I reluctantly explained, after hours of telling the staff none of this, about what had been occurring over the past few months. Another round of tests were conducted, more waiting. They weren’t sure. I asked them about the disease that the other doctor had suggested. They deliberated. I waited.

In the end, everything was inconclusive. At least they were at least listening, to my chagrin. The walls were all blending together, and it was getting later into the night. Mokuba was going to be worried about where I was. I wrapped it up despite how unfinished all of that it all was. They made referrals to an audiologist, which I handed off to Roland, and I left feeling the same amount of trepidation as when I had entered.

But now, it was the time to finally explain things to Mokuba. I came home late because of everything, and he was laying on the couch playing a handheld game, the television on in the background. I sat down beside him and shook his foot like a greeting, not saying a word. 

“Long day at work?” He asked. The voice felt small, distant from me.

“Not so much,” I replied. Even my own voice was distorted.

"Something you want to talk about, nii-sama?" he asked. He kicked his body up to look me over.

"Yes,” the television flicked off. As if he knew this was out of the ordinary. “I went to the doctor today."

"You don't look sick," he said, his brows furrowed. He was smarter than that though. "What's the matter?"

His voice flickered in and out feeling was just so far away from me. Of all the things that upset me the most, it I looked at his face and almost wanted to cry. We had been through tough times together, and sometimes the only thing that had pulled me through was the fact that I had been able to hear his voice on a hard day. Sure, you could say I still heard it, but it wasn't the same.

“Nii-sama?"

He saw through my facade to my sickened expression, my melancholy. The way my face faltered and the muscles dropped. I was attempting to manage an unafraid look when it wasn't possible. It was hurting of pull the muscles in the direction they didn't want to go. I didn't have to see it to know what it looked like. It strained my face just enough as I tried to hold it all back.

"...I've been losing my hearing," I said, choking up the words so low that Mokuba leaned in. He didn't ask me to repeat. "That morning with the alarm clock and at dinner when I didn't hear your question. I talked to someone once and thought it was fine, but today, something happened and...well, it's getting worse."

These things were devastating to tell him. It felt as if I told him that I had some incurable disease (which, on sake of semantics, it was) like cancer, or something of that nature. His level of sudden shock and subsequent sadness seemed appropriate. If I were thinking of this moment even a year ago, I would scoff at his look. It's not something to get choked up about, I would have thought then. But not now.

Mokuba didn't sob. That would have been overkill. He asked for me to say it again. "I'm losing my hearing, gradually I think. I can't hear certain voice types and I go in and out of being able to hear at all." I became objective about it the more it sank in. It hurt less when it didn't seem so close.

"Why is it happening?" He asked. I explained it like the articles I read up on it had. I hated being robotic about it, but I don't think anyone could have blamed me for it. It was strange how the gravity of the situation hit the hardest when I told Mokuba. I had told Joey and Roland, but with Mokuba it was a mixture of not only telling him what was wrong, but also the fact that I was guilty for not telling him sooner. I apologized for that, but it probably didn't sound like much of an apology. He hugged me tightly—warmly. He didn't let me go for a few minutes.

Afterwards, I could feel the tension in the household. I wondered how many conversations would be about this now. Alongside that, I wondered how long I would be able to hear these sorts of conversations, just as I had before. That was when I urged Mokuba to speak to me. About anything. He blinked.

"What do you mean nii-sama?"

"Just talk so I can watch."

"You want to watch me talk?"

"I want to watch your lips move," I explained. It clicked and he nodded. He started to tell me about his day, and I watched his mouth. "Don't slow down, that doesn't help me in the real world."

The best way to solve this was with preparedness, I resolved. Even if I didn't need this skill (which, logically, I figured I would) I could have it if I didn't hear one part of conversation and saw it instead. Too bad I couldn't do it with Joey; at least, not directly. Maybe I would start taking Mokuba to Yugi's more often.

Later that night, when I walled myself up in my study, Joey texted me again.

 

 

_ U still at the doc? _

_No. I finished a few hours ago._

_ Wats wrong? _

_Its complicated._

_ Well i didnt thnk it would b simple _

_I think it’s what I told you. There’s more tests to be run, still._

 

 

He was silent after that. I waited patiently, busying myself with reading or looking over files. I wondered if it impacted him the same way it had Mokuba. Even though he didn’t know me, was there something more absolute when there a more conclusive answer?

 

 

_You still there?_

_ Yea thnkin is all _

_There’s not much to think about._

_ I no. _

_I wasn’t sure how to tell my brother, but I did._

_ He freak? _

_Yeah. He went quiet and just sort of stared at me for a bit._

_ Is he ok? _

_I believe so. We talked about it._

_ Thats good. Im srry im nt sayin much. Its hard 2 think of something 2 say _

_You don’t have to say anything. I’m pleased just talking to you. Its comforting in itself._

_ Guess it's a good thing u broke up w/ ur grl huh? _

_Why?_

_ The way ur talking 2 me. Nt 2 kill the mood but…mayb now is a good time 2 meet irl? U seem 2 need it. _

 

 

I wanted to be angry at him for being selfish right then. He was trying to exploit a touchy moment to try and get to see me. If we weren't as close as we were now, I would have begun berating him hysterically. But I knew what he was trying to do. I knew that it wasn't a fully selfish notion, that it wasn't some exploit. I knew him. I knew him better than I ever had, and for once his selfish notions seemed to carry a hint of unselfishness to them that you could see if you only knew him so well.

 

 

_No. Now is worse than ever._

_ O…srry. _

_I know where youre coming from. Its alright, no need to apologize._

_ Well then i have something else 2 say _

_What’s that?_

_ I love you. _

 

 

I gave him no immediate response; I just stared at the screen with some kind of half endearment and half disdain. My heart immediately began racing, and that little knot in my stomach came back to me. I felt sick again, the entire day was socking me in the gut. But I was more comfortable with this ill-feeling compared to the rest of them.

 

 

_That was..._

_ Sorry. Had 2 say it _

_I see._

_ I no u may not have the sme feelings. its ok. i ws just sayin it 2 get it out there. _

_I see. Well, I just…hope you’re not with anyone._

_ Not right now _

_I’m going to go to bed. My days just been all over the place._

_ K. Night _

_Night._

 

 

I put my phone away and leaned back in my seat, staring upwards at the ceiling with all these emotions clashing together in my chest without me left with the ability to comprehend them. I knew that Joey and I had some kind of endearment, some kind of relationship, but it hurt hearing him say that. Not because I didn't appreciate it, but because I knew the gravity of the situation and he didn't. Just days before we were growling at each other, face to face.

I groaned out loud.

 

 

—////

 

 

No, I didn't go to the hospital with Joey. Not that I was trying to battle more tropes, I just knew that he would likely be holed up in the ER until a room was available (or OR, whichever he needed first) and then there was a likelihood of him being unconscious for an unknown period of time. I couldn’t stand around there wringing my hands. Instead, I went home.

Mokuba had been waiting up for me. "Where've you been?" He asked. His hands were signing as we spoke, though he missed a few words. Still practicing. 

I looked over to him, making sure I could see his face. “Out,” I said, at first keeping my hands by my side. It wasn't like I could hide what had happened. This hadn’t been normal, and Mokuba sensed that by the late hour.

"Where did you go to get blood on you?"

I looked down to my shirt, Joey’s blood smeared on my shoulder, my stomach. Finally, I started signing as I said: “A bar."

Why couldn't I be straightforward? Because I was trying to tell my beloved little brother that I was going to a bar to see my biggest antagonist, and that I’dbeen talking to them, online, for over a year without them knowing who I was.

"A bar? Nii-sama why were you...?”

"I was meeting someone I’ve been talking to online,” I said. Do I slowly pull it out or make it like a Band-Aid? Logic would suggest the latter, but I was still in shock from the events of the evening.

“Are you okay? Did you get in a fight?”

"With a car, perhaps,” I muttered. His eyes widened.

"You got hit by a car?"

"No, Joey did."

I didn't even call him Wheeler, or mutt, or any other derogatory term that Mokuba was used to hearing me say. Just Joey. Mokuba kept his eyes on me with a deer-in-the-headlights look. I wasn't what sure what surprised him the most in those few exchanges, nor could I even think where to start.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took so long to edit, because what I originally wrote was so...weird. It didn’t feel complete, especially not the dialogue. 
> 
> And I think I used the word ‘seemed’ about....27 times. Maybe.

Mokuba asked a million questions, his mouth moving faster than his hands, demanding all of the details. His reactions flung between gobsmacked excited and skin-prickling fear. Every moment Joey and I had spent together was scrutinised, every avenue explored.

“So that means that time that you and him—?” Was often the start of his questions. And I would nod, usually, recalling such a moment. “Then that time you were talking to him on your birthday?” That one was a little harder to answer, and I left it open for Mokuba to interpret.

When it was done, Mokuba was determined to find word of the accident online, wanting to know about Joey’s condition. He egged me to go to the hospital, but I still refused, even when he asked me to take him. I disappeared into my bedroom and removed my jacket and button-up, staring at the blood for more time than I should have.

I wanted to go see him. I had changed and prepared to go, but stopped myself short of the bedroom door. Showing up felt like it rubbing it in his face that it was me. The last person on earth that he wanted it to be; the last person that he ever expected. But it wasn't just that, it was the fear that welled up in my chest. I had to know if he was alright. I had to know what happened to him in his sacrifice.

Instead, I went to the office and found myself staring at the papers he had sent me so long before. The ones that had burst all over the conference floor, all the little notes that he had sent me. I skimmed his sketchy hand-writing, all of his letters and notes that he written to, for, and about me. And I began to write down everything that came to mind over these months, though I must have rewrote it four times, not sparing any words or details. 

Once I was finished, I folded it in thirds and set it on my nightstand to remind myself to take it whenever I went. If I went. If I could make myself go.

 

 

—////

 

 

I reserved myself to loneliness for some time. I refrained from speaking unless absolutely necessary and simply watched people with greater intensity.

For every bit I watched them, I watched myself more. I was uncomfortable and worried about the possibility of it all being an exploitable weakness. I found myself trying to regain some kind of vigor in the late night hours when no one could watch me pace. Every decision became an ‘if/then’. Rewriting and compiling the code—praying for no syntax errors.

For a period of time, in the days following Joey's endearing admission, I was even silent with him. He knew most of the truth; he was the one that I told the details to before anyone else, and yet I felt uncomfortable even coming to him with my musings, like I would suddenly be rejected even though he had reassured me wholeheartedly that he wouldn't.

There were 'cures'. I don't know to what limit I would consider them cures. They were more like small fixes, and they didn't work for every patient. Hearing aids, obviously; cochlear implants were a secondary, more risky try. Maybe I was selfish in thinking cosmetically. Neither of them, in my mind, were appealing. I could only imagine sitting in a room of executives and them being able to see either of those on me.

Then again, most of the executives I knew were decades older than I was, so it wasn't so far of a stretch to believe that I wouldn't be the only one in that kind of situation. Still, it was a matter of pride that I was obstinate and disregarded the possibilities. My pride was important for me. It was sometimes the only thing that kept me going.

So the days of silence went on, until I was forced back into reality. It had been ten months since I started talking to Joey, and I had also come to a milestone that didn't seem as significant as it did when I was younger. I was in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey half full before me. My hands and fingers felt twisted as I practiced, reciting ‘Happy Birthday’ orally while I forced my hands to keep up with my pace.

Mokuba sat across from me, doing the same motions, his head bowed to an instructional book to help him along. He stopped midway and picked up the book, inspecting the diagrams and pausing so he could try and get his fingers to mimic the image. We were somewhere in the middle of learning (I was further along than he was) and Mokuba was unabashed in his encouragement, but it still didn’t feel real despite that.

All this time, things seemed to settle in some way, even if there was nothing comfortable about settling. I knew that there were just things that I wouldn't hear. I began to cope with that fact, but it always hit me worst at home when Mokuba would speak and I tried to imagine his voice to the fullest as before. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, it was easier.

As he looked at the book, I finished up the whiskey, savoring the burn moment before refilling the glass. I caught eyes with Mokuba. He stared at me with a wince of concern.

“You okay, nii-sama?” 

“Yes.”

"That's your third."

"I know. It's my birthday. I'm not going to go too far.”

I had realized that my sentences were somewhat simplified so that my hands could follow along with the words. I kept following this exercise, comfortable with falling back into my mind as I worked through it, the words no longer falling from lips and my hands working to twist as if I were doing something like writing or a tying a tie.

I satisfied myself and grabbed the whiskey glass, raising my head to see that Mokuba had disappeared from my line of sight. My brows furrowed, and I looked around the semi-darkened kitchen, a long stretch of light casting deep shadows. I went to the window where headlights blared through, and I realized that someone was outside. Someone had knocked on the door and I hadn't noticed.

In the foyer, Mokuba was talking to with Joey, his hands clenched at his sides so he didn't imitate words like I would. Neither of them noticed me as I took slow steps, finding a good spot to watch them both. I was reading Joey's lips and finding trouble with his accent. He laughed at something and rubbed the back of his neck.

My feelings were bursting against my heart and up my throat, a strange feeling that I couldn't conquer or swallow and that burned in a fiery mix of regret and compassion as I remembered the text that he had sent, the last that I had received since I stopped correspondence. My lower lip wobbled like a child, and I lowered my head to try and stifle the outward physical motions. When I stopped my lip, it was my hand that shook. Some of the whiskey splashed over my knuckles. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my other hand jammed into my pocket.

"Mokuba forgot this mechanical what’s-it in my car a few days, so I brought it back. Hope that's alright with ya,” Joey didn’t seem angry, from what of his voice I could hear, but his postured suggested he was ready to battle. The anger was mildly arousing; him being here was arousing. Still, it was that urge to make sure that the real world and the virtual world were separated. It caused me to let go of the passion, and all of the anger took over instead. I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t need him to know. I didn’t want him to be here.

"At this ungodly hour?”

“I wouldn't’ve knocked if I didn't see any lights on, so I figured ‘what the hell’, ya know? I mean, everyone knows your sorta an insomniac anyways, so what's it matter?" Joey said, and he displayed the gadget for one of us to take, but Mokuba wasn’t paying attention. “‘Sides, I just got off work. I didn’t have a choice.”

I wanted to be empathic with him. I was, really. I understood how he felt on these occasions. Not coming home until everything was completely dead and you were still wide awake, searching for those glimmers of sleep even though there were tasks that were still left to be done (but not likely to be finished).

Mokuba stepped back, instinctively, as I stepped forward. Throughout the entire time that I was going on with Joey in the darkness, I wondered if he knew, that he wasn’t saying anything and waiting for me to admit it first. No, I told myself, there’s no way that he could know. He would have held that over my head instantly. But I irrationally feared it, still. He needed to go away. 

"Hand it over then," I urged, my hand clenching in my pocket, nails digging in my palm to restrain myself. He nodded, handing it off to Mokuba, but he kept staring at me, like he was waiting for a party trick. I wondered, in these moments, if my words and actions had been watered down by the whiskey. "Now you can leave," I said, and I pointed with the hand holding the whiskey glass. I didn't let my eyes stray too far away from his. In the darkness of the foyer, the only light was far behind him on the lawn. It was only his eyes I could make out distinctly, and I didn't doubt that he was the same with me, his gaze pointed.

"I didn't take ya ta drink Kaib'," he said.

I blamed the next thing said on the alcohol, engaging him with no motivation other than a momentary merge of the other personality I had created suddenly coinciding in the same being. "It's my birthday; I can do whatever I want."

“Boy, ain’t that special. Not much a shindig, but ya could pass the whiskey. I’ll share a drink with ya, since no one else will.” He grinned like he was laughing. He may have been. 

Something flared inside me. The watered down personality disappeared, and my throat clogged with the words I wanted to hurl at him to make sure he stayed disinterested. I sneered at him and stepped forward. He responded by stepping back into the thin, icy October rain droplets that speckled against our cheeks and made slushy flakes in the whiskey glass.

I had him fully outside of the house, both of us standing in the rain, when I overturned the glass and spread the whiskey in a clean line over his shoes.

“Take what you can lick up, mutt.”

"You goddamn prick! It was just a joke. What the hell’s your problem?”

I turned away from him and returned to the warmth of the house, back to the kitchen, staring at the empty glass. I trying to figure out what it was I just did. In the moment, the action seemed warranted. Ten months ago, I wouldn’t have questioned it, but the more I thought about it, the more I ended up thinking about all of our prior conversations, flooding back and slapping me in the face. I realised that I had just, very expertly, killed any kind of external relationship. All of those pleas to meet 'irl' would become pleas only. I would have to deny him.

Isn’t that what I wanted?

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor. I shivered from the my rain soaked clothes, but my cheeks and neck were burning up. I crossed my arms and clutched my sleeves, stretching out the collar. I leaned up against the counter and took a few deep breaths. This was all too much. Too much struggle. Too much conflict. Be firm, be gentle. Be angry, be kind. Be tactful, be polite. Be complicated, be simple. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a little voice that was lecturing me about giving into these feeling. It told me that all of this was the right thing to do, and it condoned these actions. Yet my heart pounded, and I could feel the tears burning in my sinuses.

"Nii-sama!"

Mokuba. He was going to berate me. I straightened my back, loosened my grip on my arms, and cleared my throat. 

"Watch out for the glass,” I warned, and pointed to where it scattered translucently on the floor. Mokuba stopped just before it.

"What was that for? Joey was just joking."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. I know you and Joey don’t get along but—“

"I have my reasons,” I said. I knelt down and started to pick up the shattered glass Mokuba sat down with me and grabbed my wrists, forced me to drop the pieces, and then held my hands tightly between his. 

“I know you’re upset,” my eyes closed. Mokuba could see right through me. “It's going to be tough, but we'll get through this. But you can't just lash out at people.”

"It was just the stupid mutt.”

"Nii-sama, stop it, listen to yourself.”

"I can't," I countered, sharp.

Mokuba’s hands squeezed mine. “Yes, you can. I know you can.” 

“Don't you get it? Things have changed, and I can’t adapt,” I said, acutely aware that Mokuba thought this was about my hearing loss, while all I could picture was Joey. “None of this makes sense.”

"It doesn’t always have to make sense,” Mokuba bit back. And he bit back hard. “Nothing, and no one, can make you change but you. You’ve been through so much worse than this, nii-sama, and adapted to it just fine. You can handle this.” He slide over on his knees and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"There’s so much more to it,” I muttered into his hair. “So much that I can’t find a way to tell you.”

"Its okay,” he said. “You’ll tell me when you want to. But it’s going to be okay. I promise."

My body melted in his embrace, and I hugged him back. My teeth clenched to hold in the sobs racking my chest. I was trying so hard to hold onto the composure everyone was used to seeing. Hell, even Joey was used to seeing me together, in control, blissfully unaware that I was breaking apart in front of him. I was no more together than the glass scattered on the kitchen floor.

Mokuba unwrapped his arms from me and pulled me at arms’ length and displayed his hands to me.

 _I love you so much,_ he signed.  

A smile twitched on my cheeks as I read his signing. I nodded.

 _I love you, too_ , I signed back.

I took him by the elbows and eased us both off the floor, nudging him away from all of the broken glass. Mokuba ran off to grab a broom and dustpan, and I took the moment to grab another swig of the whiskey, warming my body and stomach. I stared out the window, to the cold rain and the vast darkness outside.

I accepted that Joey was gone. 

 

—

 

It hadn’t been best birthday that anyone could ask for, but it had its qualities. Most would probably say that the prospect of breaking down in tears wasn’t exactly the kind of gift that they want, but I wondered if, for a millisecond, there was some kind of fate in play.

I let the idea go. Coincidences happened, and it wasn't as if I had asked for Joey to come, and it wasn’t as if he knew that it was my birthday. After that day, Mokuba’s words in mind, I made myself become recollected, rebuilding the sanctuary around my pride. I tried not to let the little details get to me, no matter how irksome and compounding they sometimes became. It was only a weakness if I let it be, just like everything else.

I had found a small glimmer in the whole issue. Being able to read lips, while difficult, was an edge to I had that I never considered acquiring before. In meetings, I made it a game of watching their mouths as they muttered under their breath. Around the office, I tended to watch associates when they were speaking to anyone other than me. It was a little bit underhanded, but it was almost like a key into their minds. When people spoke to me, they were almost always trying to please me, telling me what I wanted to hear. Which meant that they were talking out of their asses and not saying what they meant in place of what they were really thinking. It was amusing to catch them off guard with conversations I hadn’t ‘heard’.  Mokuba made fun of me for doing it, calling me devious, and then told me he would be learning to do the same thing. 

It was after one of these amusing conversations with a marketing specialist, a week after my birthday, that I received a the first text from Joey that I had received in a long while.

 

_ We hvnt tlked. _

_No we haven’t._

_ Did i do somethin wrong? _

_No. I’ve been busy and having a hard time the past few weeks. Apologies._

_ Its ok. I was just worrie _

_I’m glad your concerned. It was a lot of personal things happening at once. I nearly had a breakdown a few days ago._

_ Wat happened? _

_I…I don’t really know. Everything hit me one night, and I freaked out on a friend of mine. Broke a glass and everything._

_ Wow. U seem so mild mannered  
_

_I usually am. I just lost it. It had all been building up in me for some time, so I suppose I just let it all out. Or something of that nature._

_ I see. Dont no if u want 2 talk about it but…u doing ok? _

_I’m fine. Better, in some ways. Worse in others. I’ll survive. In the meantime, I’ve been learning sign language and picking up lip reading. I’m making the best of it._

_ That’s gr8. Jus let me no if u wanna talk.   
_

_Thank you. I know this was brief but, I have somewhere I’ve got to be._

_ K. 1 more thing. _

_What?_

_ I no ths might sound weird but…do u have some address I could mail smthin 2? _

_...you want my address to mail something to me?_

_ I want 2 give u a present. _

 

I tensed. Had he figured it out? No, he couldn’t have, he would have said something already. Nor would he be talking to me right now. Joey seemed like the type that would never speak to me again after what happened on my birthday. Then again, he and that entire group had a penchant for forgiveness. From that moment, I took it carefully.

 

_A present? What for?_

_ I just…want 2 give u smthng _

_That doesn’t answer my question.  
_

_ Its a suprise. _

_That’s not any more descriptive. We’re getting back into stalker territory._

_ I no u prolly dont want me 2 no where u live. I get that. Jus...mayb…I can send it 2 ur office? _

_....sure._

 

I was in luck. The thing about sending it to KaibaCorp. meant that I could it to land on whatever desk, in whatever department I wanted to. Like my secretary’s. All I needed to do was give Joey the office number, and she knew it would be for me. An old trick for a new game.

I had considered he would figure it out then, as I gave him the address, if he would ask me what I did at KaibaCorp, and I began to formulate more details. But he didn’t ask, and I didn’t press. He was satisfied. So was I, in fact. I had become especially curious for what he could have been sending me. It may not have been for my birthday, but the sentimentality felt the same. I was eager to receive it, never sure when it would arrive. 

It took barely two days before my secretary handed it off to me in the conference room and the papers burst all over the floor. The texts started coming, his timing both charming and little mirthful. For the first time, then, I was grateful that Joey was a little more forward than I was.

And so we came full circle.

 

 

—////

 

 

The following day, after a restless sleep, I told myself to leave the office at five to see Joey after work. Forced myself, with the letter thrown in my briefcase like my conscience’s leverage. When I left at five-thirty, instead, I almost turned around, unconvinced that I would be able to drum up the words when I saw him. What words I couldn’t find, the letter would find for me.

Inside the hospital was too clean. The antiseptic burning at the nose, the lights buzzed inorganically. I spoke to the charge nurse who directed me to elevator and up to the third floor. Once up there, I had a strange vibe, not unlike crossing the street to meeting him in the bar, except this time he knew who I was but wasn't expecting me.

My hand was frozen on the handle to his door, and despite the minimal level of hearing I had, I could still hear the laughter seeping from the room. I groaned, but pressed on. This far in, there was no point in turning away.

When I opened the door, the laughter stopped. A plague had been brought upon them. I looked to none of them, only to where Joey was propped up and surrounded by the geek squad. His knees were pulled up beneath the knit blanket. At least wasn’t too uncomfortable, given the circumstances. His gaze was turned away from me.

I assessed the damage, what wasn’t covered by the blanket. The cuts on his face were minimal; mottled bruises rung around his left eye and down his cheek. What I paid attention to, mainly was his left arm, heavily bandaged from elbow to fingertips and levelled with his shoulder on a pillow.

"Well, if it ain't Kaiba himself,” I recognised the voice of Tristan Taylor, canting my head to give him attention as scooted his chair closer to Joey’s side. An angry guard dog who was leaned back in his seat, arms crossed to be menacing. He’d seen the letter in my hand. “What's that there? You come here to pay him off or somethin’?"

“It doesn’t concern you.”

I approached the bed from the opposite from Taylor, where Yugi and Gardner sat, looking at Joey with sympathy. Gardner seemed to be chewing on words she didn’t want to say. Ever the nice girl. Yugi had spared me a once over with knowing eyes. Of course Joey had told him. I probably should have brought flowers, but it might have tipped them off. It seemed that there was only one that knew, and I doubt Yugi was going to tell the rest. Not until Joey was ready for them to know.

"I have something I need you to look over,” I said. The letter was held out to Joey. He took it with his good hand before dropping it into his lap. I backed away from the group and leaned against the nearest wall, watching him. He realized that I was waiting for him to read it, and he shifted around in bed. Despite his comfortable posture, his movements were stiff, almost robotic. He winced as he put pressure on his left elbow to sit himself upright. He attempted to shake the letter open before Taylor reached over to pull down one of the flaps. 

"Hey man, let me do it," Joey said. Taylor fell back into his seat.

This silence, watching his eyes scan each line, was daunting. His friends leaned in, curious, but he would wave the pages to back them off. Occasionally he would look up to me, that same critical gaze all over me, before turning back to the pages. There were five all together. Not as much as he had given me, but enough to suffice, enough to gather everything that I needed to tell him. Everything that I needed to explain. Everything I couldn’t have said uninterrupted. 

"Why not just tell him all of whatever this is?” Yugi asked. “You’re here.”

They must have gotten tired of waiting. It wasn’t entirely Joey’s fault he was reading slow—he did just get hit by a car.

"I have my reasons.”

Being it was Yugi that had been told, to my chagrin, I didn't see the need for further explanation.

Joey put the letter back in his lap when he finished, his gaze now focused on trying to pierce through me. "So it is true,” Joey said. What voice I heard sounded congested from swelling. “Ya aren’t very good at sayin’ ‘thank you’. Too long winded; too many pages. Sounds like a legal document. Makes my head hurt.”

I caught onto his lie, hiding the relationship thus far. I couldn’t say if I was hurt or not; we weren’t really anything right now. I didn’t blame him, either. Even injured, he was covering for the both of us.

"Then I can say it in a different way. Covering your stay here, perhaps; making sure you have your minimum-wage job after this," I said. It was the smallest assurance I could give him after so many times of him complaining about.

“Kaib’, you can’t buy your way outta this.”

“I disagree,” I said, and turned away. “I’ve stayed too long as it is, I have to go."

I didn’t hear him raise from the bed, but his friends closed in around him to push him back down. I was out the door before he could think to get up and totter after me, though it opened again as I was halfway down the hall.

"Kaiba!" Yugi's squelched little voice called. I reluctantly slowed so his short legs could catch up. "I know maybe it sounds dumb but…are you really going deaf?"

"That's the part you're worried about?"

"Well, I mean…I don't know…I'm not really worried about the rest per se,” Yugi said, articulate as ever.

"Yes, I am going deaf," I said, but I was also signing as I was speaking. "Everything I am saying to you now is something that I can sign. It is also something that I can hardly hear. Your voice—Wheeler’s voice—is practically gone."

Yugi was stared, awestruck. “Oh, o-okay. I’m sorry to hear that, Kaiba,” he flinched, “I didn’t mean it like that, I...”

I rolled my eyes as he stumbled and stuttered. I asked: “You have no questions about the false relationship?"

Yugi recovered quickly. “It's not really false, I don't think. Just…misguided."

“Hmph,” I lowered my head. Misguided. Maybe. “Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and get himself hurt worse."

"I will, but you know he still has something there for you. He saved you.”

I brushed by Yugi to head for the elevator, and raised my hand to acknowledge what he had said. I didn’t want to get any further into that kind of conversation with Yugi. I hadn’t really even had that conversation with Joey, either. 

I knew there was still something. I was never going to deny that there wasn't something; it was just a matter of figuring out what exactly. Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, looking at number that had no contact name. But I knew who it was.

 

_ U write like u txt _

_You seem to think it was a different person, still?_

_ No...i dunno...maybe. Cant believe its u. Cant believe u rly came either _

_Of course I came. I’m unfortunately obligated. You jumped in front of car for me. So why wouldn’t I?_

_Idk …_

_You’re crazy._

_ I no. I saved ur ass. _

_For that I owe you more than I care to admit._

_ But no real ‘ty' _

_Because I owe more than that._

_ O yea? How? _

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking along! We’re almost there! I hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m convinced I either gave up or ...forgot what I was writing with how much needed fixed. Geez...I must have added 1000 words or more to this. 
> 
> Enjoy!

After I confessed my feelings to Joey, said those three little words, things were supposed to change for the better, right? We would get together, make nice, live happily ever after. Forget about all of those loose ends that happened in the middle, because the power of love meant nothing else mattered. Well, that's the thing about people. You can never predict how they'll react to something. As I said sometime earlier, it is sometimes easier when emotions weren't involved. If it was "just business" and we could be done with it. But affection and love don't live in those strict black and white outlines, as anyone knows. Even me.

Joey didn't make any attempts at contacting me afterwards. I had plugged his number back into my phone on the off chance that did, but from the beginning I had anticipated that I wasn't going to get a response, no matter how much of a romantic he came across as. It was uncanny just how much he was like me when it came to being told 'I love you' when he least expected it. Becoming so stoic and quiet. Unresponsive. Cynical, maybe. What I would have given to see his face when he received the message. Of course, the circumstances were a little different now.

He was in love; had been in love. He loved me when he thought that I was someone else. Now that I was a face and a name, the dynamic had changed. He didn't know how to react, and he probably wasn't sure that those words meant anything at all.

We had been dancing this whole time. Badly. But dancing nonetheless.

I was trying to keep it going long after the music had ended. I was trying to lead him, with those words, trying to give him a reason to keep dancing. I doubted very seriously that he was going to take any more steps, even with my resolve to drag him back up. But there were only so many ways that I could do it without seeming desperate. To show him that I was still serious about this, that it still mattered. Because I wasn't desperate. If I were, I would have just went to the Turtle Game Shop and waited for him. He had to show up sometime, didn't he? Even though I wasn't desperate, there was some kind of thriving—some kind of burning—that I want to assuage.

But I didn't know how to come by it. I went back to the forum and sent him a PM, but did little else. I didn't try and text him again; I didn't try to harass him on the forums, though I did keep the site up on my laptop, checking it from time to time. He never came online on the IM system. I refused to check if he had taken me off his friend's list.

After two weeks, I figured it was done with. I didn't pretend that there was some reason that he was unable to respond; I knew he was fully capable. I moved on with my life. If he didn't want have a relationship, then there was no reason for me to beg him for one. That was something that he would do, and I wasn't going to be dragged down to his level.

Mokuba kept asking for updates that I couldn't provide him. Wanted to know how Joey was doing when I hadn't seen. He would frown, scold me for not going to the hospital more than once. I had no answers for him, just told him to go himself if he was so worried.

Every day stayed the same as it could have. Showered, shaved, dressed, and off to work. Then one morning, of noparticular importance, I woke far too early and couldn't go back to sleep. There was nothing particularly special about this day that I could think of. I was meeting to finish up a contract with another company, but it was nothing that woke me from a dead sleep. But I readied in the wee hours and walked down the stretched, austere halls of the manor, trekking my way to the kitchen. There was little light and no noise. I tried to keep my ears open, focused and concentrated, thinking that maybe Mokuba would be awake too, but at the early hour, he was no where near considering getting up.

I sat, alone, at the kitchen table for the longest time, watching the snowflakes fall outside. It made me unconsciously fiddle with my turtleneck, tugging on it until it was no longer bunched against my chin, which also had me straighten the lapels of the dull grey blazer that I had thrown on. I sighed and returned my attention to the snow, making a mental note of just how long it had been between me and him. Thirteen months of playing these games—it is what they were—and finally the well-crafted scheme was down the drain. The persona was gone, there was only Seto Kaiba. BlueS2510 was nothing more than a useless penname that idle forum goers thought was more of a nuisance than a help.

Around 06:30, Mokuba was in the kitchen, dressed for school and sitting across from me at the table eating breakfast.

"No color today?" I felt the table vibrate, and looked over to Mokuba tapping his spoon on the table top. He repeated himself, signing along with it.

"Color?" I asked.

"Your clothes. You've been wearing a lot of grey."

I looked down at the blazer, opening it up to show the baby blue lining. Mokuba raised his brow and shook his head. "That doesn't count; no one sees that. You've been dressing very..."he paused, taking a bite of breakfast, the spoon still hanging in his mouth, and finishing the statement by signing: _Your clothes are sad._

 _Sad?_ I asked, forgoing my voice. This was practice for both of us. _I like grey_ _. Clothes don't have feelings._

 _You know what I mean_ , Mokuba signed, and he rolled his eyes _._ He started to pull the spoon out of his mouth, but stopped to add: _You think Joey's clothes are sad?_ I didn't answer him, not sure how to broach that question. Mokuba shook his head, and then asked: _No coffee?_

I looked over the tabletop, realising in my thoughts that I hadn't made any coffee for the morning. _No. I was going to stop on my way to the office._

Which meant that I was stopping at the closest coffee shop, the one that I had seen Joey in so many months before.

 _Joey coffee?_ Mokuba signed. I furrowed my brows, left unable to give him an answer to such a strange and incomplete question. Mokuba waved it off, finishing up his breakfast instead. I stood from the table at around a quarter till seven and announced: "I'm going to get going; busy day." He nodded and stood, giving me a hug before picking up his bag and following me towards the foyer. I grabbed my briefcase and a heavy dress coat, pulling it tight around me. I forced Mokuba to put on his when he almost stepped out without it. I trekked through ankle-deep snow to get to my car, pulled around with the windows already been cleaned off by the arriving staff.

As I slid in, my mind brought back to Joey via Mokuba’s questions. I wondered if he was bitter. It must have been likened to being thirsty and finally getting water, only to find out it was warm. Not really what was wanted, but for some people, it would suffice. For him, he would rather die of thirst. I could have bet my fortune on it. To him, it was better to die of thirst than drink the disgusting thing he had come across.

But how disgusting did he consider me? He had risked his life for the sake of mine. Was that because he acknowledged his affection to a point that he would actually come to my rescue, or was he simply being a good citizen, a selfless one, just because that was who he was? I thought it was a little bit of both. Then again, he was coming out to speak with me anyways, wasn't he? The flowers were in his hand, so he had noticed it. Maybe he was going to berate me for my crass behavior. Maybe he was going to yell at me for the fact that I had been lying to him. Or maybe he was actually going to talk, figure this out and untangle the confusion, before he lost the chance to the car plowing into him.

If that was the case, maybe he was bitter because I wasn't by his side the entire time. If I cared enough, I should have been there like the rest of his friends, holding his hand and assuring him that everything was alright.

Like he expected me to be like that. He should know me better than that by now. We still had known each other before this, after all.

Maybe he just expected something different because of the person he had encountered online.

All of this was a lot of back and forth in my head. Building lists, calculating probabilities. Pros and con. Wondering all the possibilities and having to force myself to factor in that he was hit by a car and that he could possibly still be hospitalized. For this long, I doubted it. His injuries could have been considerably worse, but I didn't see everything that was wrong nor did I inquire about it.

I wasn't sure why I was thinking about any of this at all, other than Mokuba's inquiry.

Just after seven, I pulled up to the coffee shop. It was sparse, the snow staving people from the streets, save for the true caffeine addicts and the employees prepping behind the counter. I went inside and took slow steps, my eyes taken from the counter and looking to my wallet as I pulled it out of my pocket and took a few bills. When I looked back up, I was probably halfway up to the counter. I stopped dead in my tracks.

This is what Mokuba meant when he signed 'Joey coffee?'

To the side of the counter Joey stood, engrossed in conversation with a blond haired woman dressed in poorly-matched business casual. A supervisor, if I had to guess. A packet of papers were swung in his right hand, his left held up in a sling, covered by a green apron slung lamely over his shoulder. The same that the girl at the counter was wearing.

And I recalled that first day, to him sitting in the booth. I had seen his elbows waded on something green—his old jacket perhaps? — but it was his apron;  it had to be. The color was unmistakeable. I approached the counter, my fingers grazing the surface as veered closer to their conversation. The girl behind the counter gave a chipper 'can I help you', though I held up a finger and continued to stare. It was so easy to interrupt, but I wanted to watch him.

Joey leaned back against the wall, his head to the side and lips in my line of sight. I caught: '...gotta be some kind of, I dunno, light duty...?' The woman shook her head. I let my eyes fall to his chest, catching the silver of his name-tag, pinned lopsided to the strap of his sling. His fingers squeezed tight to the edge of it, bandages poking out at the knuckles. When I looked back at his face, he still had minor bruises which had turned a motley array of yellow and green as they healed.

I could feel myself cringing the closer I gravitated towards him. Not because the bruises were ugly (not that they were flattering, either) but because I knew, no matter how much I argued the logistics, that this was my fault.

Joey's eyes caught mine in that instant, widening, and he stopped mid-sentence, pointing the packet in my direction. The blond woman turned to me as well. "Can I help you with something?" She asked.

"I need to talk with him," I said, nodding to Joey. "If he's not occupied. It happens to regard the accident, as it were," my hand shifted to the packet in his hands, now being crammed under his arm.

"Kaiba, I don't wanna get into this here with ya."

"I'm not going to mince words with you—"

"Oh good, I thought this was gonna be long winded."

"If you let me finish, this will end up being much simpler," I said, and I motioned for him to be pulled away from his supervisor, as her name-tag affirmed to me. She watched us both with rapt fascination, particularly once she seemed to realise who I was.

"Mr. Kaiba, I—"she turned away from me, her voice dropping away for a moment, "—wasn't a lie?"

"'Course it wasn't a lie!" Joey near shouted to the blond woman. His attention was back to me. "I don't really wanna talk about all this crap, ya know? I just sorta wanna pretend none of this happened. That all right with you?"

"Not really, no.”

"Yeah, well, too bad."

"You don't care to hear what I have to say?" I asked. Time was ticking, but the opportunity was too much to pass up.

"So ya can use that crazy business mumbo-jumbo and bring me over ta your side of this? No way. Uh-uh," Joey shook his head.

"Joey, you’re making this far more complicated than it needs to be."

"Oh, I'm the one makin' it complicated. Of course it's me!"

"Mr. Wheeler! Have you any idea who you're talking to right now?" The woman said. She stared at me, a leer in her smile. As if I needed her defending me.

"'Course, I know a prick when I see one."

"Five minutes, Joey," I said, calm and curt. I watched the way the realisation dawned on him when that I had been calling him by his name. Not 'Wheeler', not 'mutt', not any other derogatory derivative therein. Joey.

His head bowed, fingers running through his thick bangs. A sigh, pushing himself off the wall and brushing by me. He favored his right side, his back stiffened to hide it. He eased himself down into the nearest booth, and I followed suit but remained standing, bracing against the corner of the table.

"Let me explain this in as few words as I can," I said, trying to think of a way to make it less long winded than it was likely going to be. "At first, it was just letting off steam. I thought it would be amusing to rile you up. Then, it turned into something that was out of my control. Something changed that I almost hadn't noticed, or didn't want to notice. I didn't reveal who I was because I was well aware how you would react. I tried to fight every attempt you made, you can't tell me otherwise. And then we just...reached the natural climax. It was do it then or risk losing something that had potential. I wasn't about to let that chance go," I looked him in the eye, but his eyes weren't looking back at me. They were staring down at my hands, in constant movement from the beginning.  I brought them up so we could meet eye-to-eye, forgoing any signing in the process. "Everything I told you, everything I wrote to you, is the truth. I am a man of my word."

Joey raised a brow critically, and he gave me the kind of disbelieving look that I would give that would have people around me stammering like they had done something wrong, questioning everything they said to figure out where they had displeased me. "I just have a hard time believin' ya…." Joey shook his head. "Figures you would be the ass that would torment me, huh? How the hell'd ya find me there?”

"Mokuba," his face became stricken. "He had nothing to do with the rest of it.He just showed me the site you two were on, and told me it was you that he was talking to. It was probably around the time you'd shown it to him."

"Shoulda figured…"Joey scoffed. He brought his good hand up to the elbow of the sling, cradling it. "Managerial position, eh? Gotta little brother. Heh. I shoulda seen it. Makes sense when I look at ya now," but he rolled his eyes and let out a breathy little laugh. I wasn't entirely sure if he felt ignorant, betrayed, or angry. Maybe all of the above.

"It's not like I really lied to you," I said. "I omitted one bit of information. Just like you were doing. Red and Blue, right? I never asked your name, you never asked mine."

"Still don't make it right! You're still a jerk. Playin' around with me like that…" He leaned close.

"Why? Because I riled you up? Because you were into it just as much as I was? Because you fell headfirst into something and you didn't realize until it was a little too late? Did you not think it was possible to be attracted to someone online, is that it?"

"That ain't even none of your—"

I held out my hands as if I was exposing my chest, my heart, to him. "I did nothing that your hormones didn't do to your own body. I was just text on a screen the entire time. The fact that you were riled is because you were attracted then. That you’re angry right now is because you know that I'm right. You were riled up by those words; you were attracted to those words. You want to know something?" I asked. He didn't make any indication either way. "So was I. And I still am. If you want to throw away all of these months away, by all means, go ahead. But you have to make that decision right now. Take it or leave it."

Joey grit his teeth, baring them like the angry dog I took him for. "See, this is what I was meant, you bein' like this."

"What? Me being blunt and laying it all on the table? That's all I do in business. It's easier than playing some game or dancing some dance."

"Have some humanity about it. I'm not buyin' somethin' on sale. I'm considerin' a relationship with a...a freakin' person! It ain't that damn simple."

"Maybe it'd be easier if you thought of it more like merchandise."

"That's why I don't like this!" Joey snapped, and he went to rise, only to grimace and fall back in his seat. I stepped over to him, putting my arm across his back and easing him up. It seemed random, even if it was automated, but if he wanted to see humanity, the randomness of it all worked. He pushed his good hand against my chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Stop being stubborn."

"Stop bein' an ass," he replied as he readjusted to sit back down. I sat, too, though it beside him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You said you want me to have some humanity? You're going to have to look at me closer than a computer screen. Why not start now?" I asked.

Joey looked away from me and to the room as it slowly filled with customers. I checked my watch. It had been more than five minutes, and I needed to be going. "It's completely your choice to ignore all the time we've already invested," I said, hoping he knew that meant the online transactions. His eyes cast to the table top, fingernail flicking away stray sugar grains. "Since you seem so willing to be blinded by your own anger, take a day or two. Continue to feel hurt about all of this; lick your wounds. Just understand that I've meant everything I said, and this is a limited time offer. The sooner you say no, the sooner I can get through the pining and get on with other things."

Joey's eyes narrowed, and he finally looked up at me, face screwed in confusion. He seemed to be looking for words, but his cheeks puffed out instead, as if biting something back. I slipped out of the booth and stood, preparing to head back to the counter. But I stopped and asked: "Is your arm broken?"

"It...it's uh…minor fracture," Joey replied. His cheeks deflated and eyes blinked rapidly. I must have thrown him a curveball. "Nothin' I ain't dealt with before."

I wondered if he was considering the humanity of the question. That seemed to be a detail he always attributed to me. Like 'lack of humanity' was stamped over my head, among other delightful characterisations. That's what seemed to stump everyone who didn't matter. How Mokuba stayed around me when I was so cold and calculating in regards to people. Maybe Joey was thinking about that. His brain working hard on something. Perhaps he was recalling those many months of transactions, and I half-imagined him pulling out his phone and scrolling through texts, though he didn't seem to diligent type that saved his. Not like I did.

Maybe I was just more sentimental about all of this than he was. I was letting myself get a little too emotional about it all. Mokuba would tell me that it was a good thing. Letting these emotions out for everyone to see. At least on a limited basis.

I went up to the line that had formed and I waited. The supervisor hurried to open a second till and called me to it. Humbleness be damned, it would make it easier to be out of the coffeeshop and away from the awkward mess. I ordered, and while the supervisor made it up, I looked at Joey out of the corner my eye. He had the packet of papers leafed open, the legalese plain as day on the front page.

As the supervisor returned, I requested for her to make something that Joey would drink. She seemed perplexed, but complied with a face-tearing grin, coming back quicker. When I opened my wallet to pay, I dug out a business card from the back of several kept, just in case. I sat it on the lid of the coffee cup that was meant to be his, balancing both cups as I went back to the booth. The cup was slid in front of him, the card stilled by the steam.

"What the—?"

"Call that number when this place gives you trouble," I said.

Joey reached down to take the card, and I put my hand over top of his, trying to give him a coy smile, though it felt more like a smirk than a genuine grin.

Everything in time. The sudden surprise on his face couldn't be hurried away; his eyes were staring at my hand while his rough knuckles pushed up into my palm, his thumb running along the ridge of my pointer finger.

"Thanks..." Joey said, almost whispered. But I heard him, allowed the clarity in the moment.

I let go. Joey drew back to his chest, the card pinched between his fingers, scrutinised. His eyes came back to me, and I took the opportunity.

 _Get well, Joey,_ I signed _. Think quickly._

Joey's regarded me like I was crazy, but I didn't acknowledge it, only walked out of the shop and got back in the car. From there, I caught him staring at the back of his hand before it closed to a fist, his pinky swooping into a 'J'. He smiled, laughed a little.

I left before he noticed me.

Strange, the things that we find comforting.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot that I wanted to integrate into this chapter, and have been integrating in slowly the story that wasn’t as present, regarding the subplot about the hearing loss. Like...it was just there, it was a thing, but wasn’t as important originally. Which is what a lot of the changes are. 
> 
> And cleaning up the weird, stilted dialogue. :D this chapter also grew quite a bit, too.

When Joey gave me no response in the days that followed our abrupt meet-up, I reasoned that silence was his answer, and told myself there was no more reason to think about him, or whatever kind of relationship we had. I thought, at least fantastically, that it would be as simple as turning off a switch to rid myself of the affection. Realistically, the human brain doesn't work in such a simple binary construct.

Don't misunderstand me, I wasn't sitting in my study crying or pining or mourning. It was more noticeable at an internal level. I could measure it through physical timing. I could feel myself just being...off. Tasks that were usually automated had to be thought about. Things that took moments were now becoming minutes. I felt lazy, unproductive, and unfocused on anything that wasn't this strange swell of emotions.

It became a very interesting experiment in the effects of rejection. It felt akin to failure, in some ways. There was a spark in my fingers, and ambition to recalculate, reformulate. There had to be another way to conquer this, to win the prize that was so precariously dangled in front of me. I had never aligned myself with someone strongly enough for their feelings about me to actually cause such a reaction, such a dent in my skin. I almost had to laugh at how much a man who had, for the longest time, been a beaten enemy of mine, made me taste a different flavor of failure. In the end, I was more disappointed than upset.

How could Joey Wheeler make me re-evaluate myself so thoroughly? I never thought I would be standing in front of a mirror and asking myself if I was really that bad of a person for deceiving him. He had pulled the exact same stunt as I had. But as he argued with me, as I knew, I'd had the advantage the entire time. And I lost.

No one noticed my slouch and disorganisation. No one but Mokuba, of course. He'd made it a habit to comment on my wardrobe choice almost every morning from there on out. If he could see the superficial, he could see all of the under layers.

His response was to set my mind to other tasks, as if he knew I needed a distraction. _You should make your office work for you more._

 _Work for me?_ I asked. _I think it already does._

 _Like_ , he paused, hands up and searching for a word. "Adaptive. Make it more adaptive," he said when he couldn't figure it out.

"Adaptive?" I asked, the word almost foreign. But I understood him, even when he clarified.

 _You know, like change_ , Mokuba signed. Change. That's what was happening, wasn't it? All this change, all this motion.

But he gave me a project, something to focus my mind. I invited the change in, turning what were normally audio cues into visual ones. A knock on the door not missed, my attention instead drawn by video-display, motion-triggered. Phone calls transcribed live, though a video-conference was much more preferable. It honed the lip-reading skill. All meetings were recorded and transcribed, a service that had already been employed but was much more useful. Mokuba had joked, at one point, that I should have handcuffed my briefcase to my wrist, just so no one could sneak up and take it.

More importantly, Mokuba convinced me to at least try some kind of 'cure' when nothing else was feasible for me. It took a bit of goading to convince me to be fitted for a set of hearing aids. "For your safety; you did almost get hit by a car," Mokuba said.

Hard to argue.

I promptly began wanting to find a smaller, sleeker design for them for when I did wear them, something I would design myself. I wanted something I could integrate into different parts of already available KaibaCorp technology, attach to some kind of virtual reality software, something that gave me more reason to use them in first place.

None of this was a substitute, however. I found myself closing my eyes and trying to search out voices, noises, even those buried in my memory. Which always brought me back to Joey. Remembering his thick-accented voice, dotted with honesty and passion, even when flinging insults.

But I took it in stride. After three weeks, the emotion began to wane. My functionality felt returned, if it ever left. Just in time for the holiday season. Everything at the corporate building began to buzz. People were in a hurry as they scurried across the lobby now donning lights and garlands, appropriate for the season. Ordered chaos.

Everyone seemed to stop mid-run to greet me as I passed by. A bow of the head, smiles on their lips, with a light chirp of the raucous noise available to be heard as I went through a back hall and to a more private elevator. Roland joined me a few steps behind, stopping the door before it closed. He handed me a tablet, and I passed my briefcase off to him. The day's itinerary was listed on it, already revised from what I had checked shortly after I woke.

All the details were skimmed through, a new proposal opened up and read through before I made a few quick edits and sent it back to them, denied. Just in time to feel the elevator shudder and settle on the top floor.

"Go for Ackerman," I heard, seeing him pinch at the radio on his lapel. His hand reached out, crossing over my chest to stop me from leaving. "What sort of disturbance?" I passed the tablet back to him, where he happily took it up and was tapping against it.

"What's going on?" I asked, and I moved in closer.

"Someone demanding to see you was denied entry at the lobby, so they tried to make a run for it. I believe he's been detained," Roland said. His hand pressed to his earpiece, and I stole the tablet back to take a look at the camera feed that Roland had pulled up. "He's been detained on the third floor."

"I see that," I remarked, quick to notice the feed of a distinctly blond character being dragged into the security office. I smirked. "I'll handle it."

"Sir?"

The tablet was again handed back to him, and this time, he tried to give me back my briefcase. "Take it to my office."

"Sir, I would very much like to join you—"

"This will only take a few minutes," I said, selecting a different floor. Roland was reluctant to leave, and I caught him speaking into the radio again, lip-reading 'Mr. Kaiba is...' before the doors slid closed.

When I got to the door to the security office, I tugged on the hem of my shirt and flattened it before entering. The room was small, a little dim, with a multitude of monitors covering multiple floors. Joey was placed in a folding-chair the middle of the room, leaning on a table, with one of the security guards an inch from him.

His head snapped up, and I made sure his honey eyes locked with mine before I said: "You should have called ahead first."

Joey's lips curled, and his response was to shake to shake his wrist, hand-cuffed to the table in the middle of room. "What the hell am I supposed to tell these bastards?"

"You could have called _me_ ahead. You have my number."

Joey rolled his eyes, and after a second of thought said: "Like ya woulda answered."

I sighed. "You deleted it, didn't you?"

"N-no! Who says?" He rattled the handcuff again. I shook my head and pulled up a chair across from him.

"Unhook him and vacate the room," I ordered the lingering security guard. They were slow in their response, glancing between me and Joey cautiously. "He poses no risk."

"Of course, sir."

Once they had him unbound and went to leave, Joey used the free hand to give flip them the middle finger before slumping back in the seat. I crossed my arms and watched him, waiting for him to start speaking. Instead, he was content with copying my posture and glowering at me.

"Are you going to explain why you're here, or are you just going to stare at me like I'm a beast of burden?"

"I'm tryin' to figure out what to say," Joey said. His posture slackened into the chair, right arm falling down, left still crossed over his chest. It was held rigid in a brace, bandages still wound underneath. At least the bruises on his face were healed. "'Cause obviously ya don't give enough shit 'bout me to tell them not t' go haywire when I come."

"They thought you were trying to break into my office."

"What the hell—? I didn't even make it past the third floor for Chrissakes."

"That's beside the point. You are an unauthorized individual on the premises and when you were denied entry, you ran," I said. He grumbled, incoherent, and looked to the floor. "I'm sure you could have found the number to KaibaCorp. The main desk could have made the appropriate transfers."

"Been there, tried that...blah, blah, blah..."Joey shook his head and kept shaking it, denying his admission. Which made me wonder how many times he had called. I folded my hands atop my crossed legs and waited for him. His lips thinned and I watched his Adam's apple wobble as he swallowed, hard. Another shake of the head, fighting back something. Words? Maybe. Emotions? Likely. He looked jarred, confused.

"Why have you come?"

"To talk to ya. Why do ya think?" he snapped.

"Then talk. I'm listening."

A small smile cropped up. "Heh, listenin'..." he must have thought he muttered it to himself. His gaze levelled with mine. "I uh…I've been thinkin' a lot 'bout all this. 'Bout what ya said."

"Have you? Enlighten me," Joey's eyes flicked between my hands, still folded in me lap, before returning back to my face. His features seemed to soften. He let out a shaky breath.

"I've...been around with different people. Explored. Had fun. But, I mean, I ain't with them now, obviously. None of 'em really were what I was lookin' for. Seemed like there was some kinda link that was jus missin'. Like I couldn't talk to 'em at all. Like what I either said went over their heads—"and he paused, probably expecting me to say something "—or they thought I was inferior in some way. Not worth their time. Not for conversation, at least. Which I thought that was how ya were since, really, who dontcha think is under ya? But I…I started lookin' through the IMs and stuff, an' I noticed somethin' funny. I told ya whatever that hell came off the top of my head an'... ya jus' continued the conversation. Any conversation. No matter how small, or dumb, or...hell, whatever. Ya listened to my frustrations, shared your own. It felt almost, I dunno, therapeutic for us both, I think. It made me want t' keep comin' back. Made me miss ya when ya weren't online, either, 'cause I always wanted t' see what rabbit hole we would down next. It's prolly leagues over most of the blowhards I've ever been with."

"It wasn't always polite conversation, either," I said.

He snickered, and he leaned forward, closing the gap between us. "Yeah, no kiddin'. Which...makes me wanna admit that while ya drive me insane sometimes—" I cracked a grin "—at the same time, I prolly drive ya the same amount of nuts. An' if we can manage t' not completely drive the other person insane, why not give this a try? Maybe..."

"Took you long enough to consider it."

"'Ey, don't push it," he said. "I didn't have to come back at all."

I shrugged. "I was simply stating the obvious."

"You're still Seto Kaiba keep in mind. Ya push my buttons, an' ya ain't off the hook for the past. It's still gonna take me a bit to get past that whole…deception thing."

"If that 'whole deception thing' hadn't happened, we wouldn't be in this situation. So be thankful that I ever spoke to you."

Joey bristled, and shifted away from me. "Fine. Be a prick about it…"

"Calm down, Joseph," I said, and began signing as well, starting with his name. “It was a joke."

"Joke? Ya may wanna work on that there. That ain't much a sense of humor."

Again, I shrugged. "That would be why I'm not a comedian. Besides, have you ever heard of a funny businessman?"

He cracked a toothy grin. It was a sickeningly sweet, sunshiny little grin that lit up his whole face. There was nothing about it that was deceiving, nothing behind his eyes to read into. It was just him, his heart on his sleeve, ready to give all of himself to this effort whether it worked out or not.

I checked my watch and went to stand, figuring that Joey had said his peace. He followed suit, though he said: "I dunno if this'll work, but what the hell right?"

"That's a very resigned outlook for a relationship."

"Well, this ain't a normal relationship, so I figure I'll stick with what I got," he said, heading for the door. It sounded reasonable. 

"I suppose it isn't traditional," I agreed.

"You can say that again. It ain't like either of us came up and said: 'Oh hey, by the way, I think I like you. Wanna go to a movie or somethin'?'" Joey was chuckling to himself, and I was grateful to hear it.

His foot was almost out the door when I grabbed onto his wrist to hold him back. He turned, backing up into the room, shifting closer to me as door swung closed. My heart began to pound. I let go of his wrist. "How about dinner, instead?" I asked.

"Dinner?"

"If that's acceptable," I said. Joey leaned a little bit closer.

"Not gonna tell me ya like me first?"

"I think we've already done that. A little stronger, in fact."

He was blank for a second, blush hitting his cheeks as he grinned. "Suppose you're right. Guess we gotta so somethin' else then."

"Such as?"

The air between us was more than tepid. He seemed expectant of something, leaning in closer, though his eyes were widened and aware. I went forward, against better judgement, and pressed my lips against his parted ones.

Joey pressed his hands into my shoulders, moving his head back. Had I read the moment wrong? "A'right then, that..."

"What?"

"That felt like a first time."

I blinked. "It was."

"It...what? You? Are ya fuckin' with me right now? Wait, wait, how many...have you ever dated anyone before?"

"I have."

"And you've...done things...?"

"More or less."

"But ya haven't kissed anyone before?"

"One doesn't always require the other," I replied. His next action left me surprised. His hands cupped my cheeks, and his lips pressed deep into mine, leaving them stinging. I reciprocated his motions, trying to lean my head to match just a little better. Then there was the his tongue, brushing along, soft and warm. I immediately drew back, away from his hands, my face overrun by the heat collecting in my cheeks. He had some kind of winning grin on his face. "We'll work on it. Jus' hope I don't gotta teach you everythin'."

"Not likely," I said. I took a second to breath, and imagined myself grabbing him and pressing him against the wall to try again. Instead, I walked out ahead of him, my face stony to try and hide the weird mix of euphoria, confusion. Maybe a bit of shame. He wasn't going to be beat me in this, either. He came out behind me.

The security guards were waiting, cautious. "Joseph Wheeler is a fellow duelist. I should expect him to be treated better the next time he's here. Add him to any appropriate access lists."

"Yessir. And the incident report?"

"What incident?" I asked, and began to walk away from them, expecting Joey to do the same, looking over my shoulder to be sure he was behind.

Once we were halfway down the deadened hallway that led to the elevator, he grabbed my hand. I looked back, worried he may have said something I didn't hear. "So, where are ya takin' me?"

"A place with a dress code," I replied.

"Hmph. Surprise, eh?"

"Exactly."

"Ya want me ta meet ya somewhere?"

"I'm sure you can find my home," I said. I didn't let go of his hand as we continued walking towards the elevator. "Just meet me there and we'll continue on. Be there at around seven tonight; that way I can inspect you before we go."

"What, gotta make sure I ain't got fleas?" he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. And he thought my humor was bad. "No, just to make sure you dress up enough. If not, I'm sure I can come up with something."

"Can ya give me a hint on how dressy?"

"You need a jacket."

"Like…a suit jacket, jacket?"

"Something like that," I said. The doors to the elevator slipped open, empty.

Joey squeezed my hand and nodded. "A'right." We stepped into the elevator, and as the door sealed shut he pushed me against the wall, much in the way I envisioned myself doing to him moments before. His lips were on mine even before my shoulder blades hit the wall. I brought my arms up around his neck, pushing us close, trying to match the quick pecks that were so delightfully assaulting, though I found myself hitting the corner of his mouth, or scrapping against his lip. I could sense him leading me along, dealing with it. He pulled back, his forehead on mine.

"Stop bein' so damn afraid."

"Afraid?" I scoffed. "Please."

Joey nodded. "You're Seto freakin' Kaiba. Ya do what ya want an' get it how ya want it, eh?" As if he needed me to answer that ego-stroking question. "So think like that, suck up some of the saliva, an' you'll be good as gold."

Saliva? What was he—?

Joey didn't give me any time to process, his body pressed against mine, his hands balled up in my jacket. His teeth brushing against my neck as his lips gently kissed against it. I looked up to the ceiling while my hands ventured down his back. The only thing that it seemed like I could feel, besides the warmness of his lips, was the tightness of his hips as they writhed against me. A pulsating moan rippled through me, and I clamped my lips tight to suppress it.

Joey had more experience than I did, and as much it felt like I was losing, at the same time, it meant that we were going to spend the time trying to make it all better.

I gripped a handful of his shirt when he brought his tongue up to my ear, tongue lapping at the lobe before his teeth began nibbling. My eyes squeezed closed, and then opened again to search for the ascending numbers. We didn't have much time.

I pulled myself away from his affection, pushing him away just long enough that I could press him up against the wall and returning the favor. He was smug and demanding, a look I tried to combat, to conquer, as my lips assaulted his. Something went right. He pressed harder against the kiss, and his one hand beneath my shirt, against my midriff before it slid against lower back. His fingers were like blades of grass, pitting my stomach as they danced against the balmy skin. I shivered and suppressed another moan, my head still bucking back while I sought out the assaulting hand.

Joey gave me another quick kiss on the lips before forcing space between us. The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the doors were about to open. I had ten seconds to go from disheveled to together. I pulled at the hem of my shirt and readjusted my lapel, tugging the jacket down and cinching it together. I tried to press my legs together, though there was only so far I could go.

In such a short elevator ride, Joey had gotten me hot and bothered. But the battle of lips was plenty rewarding on its own. All of that pent affection and frustration had to end up somewhere, sometime.

"So, does it really matter if I go or stay?" Joey asked. I didn't hear him say this, nor did I see it. And when I turned back to him, he seemed confused, but was quick to repeat himself.

"I have a packed schedule," I replied. I tried to sign out the words, but my fingers felt too numb to make any of the phrases, tangling themselves up halfway through. "I'll send Roland out to you; he'll set you up with the necessary clearances so this doesn't happen again. He'll lead you out of here afterwards."

"Yeah, sure."

I had began towards the office, but stopped and looked over my shoulder. "Seven o' clock. Be punctual." I didn't give him a chance to respond before I went into my office, ordering Roland out after a brief explanation.

I needed to be alone. I needed to slip behind the desk, lean back, taste his lips against mine, revel in everything that just happened for a moment before I moved on to other things. I felt in control. I was in control, perfectly in control. Everything felt normal—everything felt recalculated—even if everything had suddenly changed.

And that was alright.

—

Mokuba must have been more excited than I was. Telling him about dinner may have been a mistake. He spent more time in my wardrobe throwing jackets and ties at me than I did even thinking about what I might be wearing. In the meanwhile, he was talking a million miles a minute, his own hands not able to keep up with what he was saying. As I was straightening out my tie, he came behind me in the mirror.

His thumb jammed twice into his palm. _Doorbell._

 _Must be him,_ I signed. He nodded vehemently. _You go get it. I'll be down in a minute._

Mokuba was out of the room in a second, while I went to the closet and picked out two different, neutral colored blazers. One of them bound to go with anything that Joey was wearing. I left the room, and as I drew near the main level of the house, it was pleasant to hear even the lowest pitches of Mokuba and Joey's laughter.

Stepping into the foyer, Joey in my line of sight, I was briefly bombarded with the images of splashing the whiskey over his shoes. I blinked it away, and gave him a thorough once over before saying: "I'm impressed. You clean up decently."

He dressed in a basic white button-up, tucked into a pair of creased, khaki slacks that were well-worn and just a little bit too big for him. And he had managed to dig up a navy sports jacket, leaving me to put blazers on a nearby table as I approached him. It could have better, but it would definitely pass.

"These are sorta my…interview clothes. It okay?"

"It'll do," I said, and I kept looking him over. "Do you own a comb?" I asked.

"The best of the best," he said, laughing, and then began to run his fingers through the mess, combing it back and pushing his bangs out of his face. I shook my head and sighed.

"Your look is too stuffy. Undo the top button of your shirt." I said, giving him another once over. He had a charming, down-to-Earth, business causal thing going on that worked for him. I wouldn't expect anything else. Nor want it.

"Says the man wearin' a tie."

But he complied, straightening out the collar in the process. His hand went up to his hair again, fighting it this time, before looking over to Mokuba and asking: "'Ey, ya got a hair brush or somethin'. Your brother's bein' picky." Mokuba was gone and back in the blink of an eye, handing off a brush to Joey.

"Meet me outside when you're done," I said. My mind was still drawn to that moment as I passed the threshold, wincing as I remembered just how...final it felt then. It bore right through me. Would he bring it up? Did it really matter after what happened in the elevator this morning? I couldn't be so sure.

I faintly heard the door slam behind me, and turned, expecting Joey to be following. Instead, Mokuba came up to me, gripping my arm and shoving something in my hand. The hearing aids.

"I don't need these," I said.

"Sooo...you don't wanna at least try for your first date?" He asked. He folded my hand around the container. Mokuba patted my hand and nodded to himself, even though I said nothing to him. He bolted back into the house before I could hand them back off to him.

Reluctantly, as I stood outside, I pulled the little pieces out and tucked them into my ears. A few flicks of dials later, the world seemed to materialise in a wave of sound. So many background noises came flooding back, and it took a moment to get used to the feeling no matter how many times I'd tried it before. The sound always bobbed, in and out, like someone was turning the volume up and down. There was no adjusting it to perfect, but it was better. Marginally. I wanted to try and hear Joey to the best of my ability.

I fiddled with the longer hairs by my ears, tucking it down and around them to hide what could be hidden. But Joey was already outside, hair now tamed and bangs tucked back, and the door had closed behind him. He glanced at me, quizzical but unrestrained as his hand pressed up to my cheek. I brushed him away.

"What's up with those?" Joey asked. He'd seen them. "Ain't seen ya wear 'em before."

"I am obligated, by law, to be able to hear when I am driving," I said, trying to make it objective and easy to swallow.

"Yeah, that makes sense," he replied. We started to walk towards the car, his hand brushing against mine.

"And...I wanted to hear your voice," I said.

Joey stopped, and I looked back to see his ducked his head towards the ground, trying to hide the blush that was still there when his face popped back up, smiling beaming across his features. Acceptance. Good enough.

"I ain't gonna get use to hearing compliments from ya," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "So uh...why dontcha wear 'em all the time?"

"Because they don't work all that well," I replied, unlocking the car and slipping into the driver's seat. "Just enough that I could hear something if some kind of emergency was coming. Besides, I'm starting to like reading lips. Give me a certain edge."

"Yeah, I remember ya tellin' me you were learning that," he said as he slipped into the car. His hands immediately began rubbing along the lining of the door, as well as pressing along the seats. "Ya know, I was expectin' a Ferrari or Lamborghini."

He changed the topic so casually. I rolled my shoulders. "What makes you think think I would drive a sports car?"

"Because you're rich as hell an' if it ain't expensive, it ain't for you," Joey said.

"There are cars that are expensive that aren't sports cars," I replied.

"Well, yeah, duh, but like...that's jus' sorta borin'. An' it don't seem like you."

"Doesn't seem like me?" I asked, curious. "And you're the authority on me now, hm?"

"Ya have a jet that looks like a Blue-Eyes," Joey stated. "I think I can say that, yeah, it don't seem like you. An' you seem like a sports car kinda guy. Maybe somethin' weird an' sorta, lesser known, jus' so it's mysterious and everyone'll know it's you. Like a Lotus or somethin'."

"Those aren't that strange," I said. "I'd rather not argue about with you about this."

"Playful banter ain't nothin'," Joey said. "'Sides. I like talkin' about cars. It's somethin' I actually know a lot about."

"Ah, I see. And you want to talk over my head," I said, taking a moment to glance over at him.

"No, I jus' am talkin'. Ya know, like people do," Joey said, his tongue stuck out at me. He was laughing, and I was suppressing a little grin. "Ya prolly know how ta take a car apart an' put it back together. Its all that machinery an' good stuff."

"Computers and cars are completely different," I said. He leaned back in the seat and shrugged. This was nice, just talking to him. It had that same flow as when we were online. Whatever came to mind was just blurted out, even if it was an insult.

"You could figure it out, though I bet. If ya can put together all those gizmos an' stuff, I'm sure a car is a no brainer," Joey said. "Listen t' me, buffin' your ego. Man, this is weird..."

"And kissing me in an elevator wasn't?"

"Nah, that shit's normal," he laughed.

Well, maybe he was right. Maybe being carnal was a little more normal than just bantering back and forth. There wasn't much thought involved, and little emotion besides ecstasy and euphoria. Being romantic, and being friendly, were two completely different things. We were stumbling along, figuring that out along the way,

"You're not a picky eater, I hope," I said as we pulled close to the restaurant.

"Nah. Not really," he said. "I mean, we're goin' somewhere fancy, so I really got no room to be picky."

Joey's total resignation as to how things were now, compared to how he had felt just a few weeks prior, was almost frightening. I kept waiting for him to be joking with me, playing me for a fool. But then, he did have several weeks to think about it. And it wasn't as if he didn't come back without a fight. I chuckled to myself.

"What's so funny?" Joey asked.

I shook my head. "I'm just thinking about this situation. It's not exactly normal."

"Ya really think it coulda been? We ain't exactly some, storybook fairytale or nothin'. It's sorta more…I dunno. It's not anything. A love of the classes, maybe. Which makes me wonder what all them tabloids are gonna say tomorrow mornin' 'bout you. 'Seto Kaiba, Helpin' the Needy'. Heh…"

I was sure the press could be handled. Keeping them quiet, distracting them with something else more enticing, was nothing. But I almost didn't want to keep quiet. They already knew about Joey saving me, and it would just be such a waste of our time and energy to try and skirt around and hide this relationship when neither of us seemed uncomfortable with it.

We pulled up to the restaurant, and I stepped out, handing my keys off to the valet. Joey was slow to step out, staring up at the restaurant and around at the parking lot of cars, mouth agape and in disbelief. I could tell by the look on his face that this was a place he thought he'd never be. "I shoulda wore a tie."

I took his hand and, working up the courage as we approached the door, gave him a small peck on the cheek, quashing any nerves that were bubbling around in my stomach. There was always a photographer staking out this place.

The dinner went as well as I could have imagined. It was just a few drinks, loosening lips, recounting old stories and him telling me his arsenal of stupid jokes, telling me that he was convinced he was going to make me burst out laughing, like it was some sort of goal. His effort was enjoyable, though he was mostly laughing at himself, which was just as nice to hear. Maybe that was his goal instead. To keep laughing, to keep smiling. Which was infectious, a smile rising and falling off my face throughout the night.

Afterwards, I took him back to the manor, allowing him to sober up on the couch while I sat beside him, catching up on work e-mails as he continued to babble about nothing,

"We should practice more kissin' with ya..." he said absent, somewhere in the middle of the one-sided conversation, right before he pushed himself into my lap, moving my laptop and kissing me on the corner of my mouth. A cursory glance around, making sure that Mokuba wasn't hanging around and watching, before I cupped his face and lined our lips up.

I wish I could say something had happened, but it was just a first date, feeling each other out. We were both lukewarm, but it was dealing with the physical person, not the words on the screen. It was easy to make up the voices, and feelings, when you were reading them as opposed to hearing someone speak. Funny, the puns in life I have.

It wasn't long after he left that I had a strike of thought, I pulled out my phone, firing off a quick text:

 

_I know you no longer have my number. Here's it back. Also, I want you to know this still like it was from before: All of this is on my terms._

 

And it didn't take but a minute to get the reply:

 

_ Ur terms? W/e u crazy random person txting me...learn to kiss first, then well talk more... _

_Hush now._

_ Make me. _

 

Endearing, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more to go!


	12. Epilogue

The thing about relationships, as I found through plentiful observation, is that they are a lot like people. They are volatile; they have their own emotions and moods, their existence is limited, and there is never enough time for them—they disappear in the blink of an eye. The other part I observed and concluded was that they were made up of two essential, albeit tricky, parts: sustainability and compatibility. Which, as many would probably say right off the bat, Joey and I are not what people would deem 'compatible'. Sustainable? That's a different story all together. Its not something I really could speak on; not something any person in a relationship wants to consider, I'd hazard to guess. It was just too subjective to put into words. There were just too many variables.

But compatibility was completely different. All I have to do is think about is a moment about a month after we decided that everything was okay and that we could manage not to kill each other long enough for a relationship.

I'd arrived home somewhat earlier than normal, another visit from the audiologist leaving me just a little on edge. It was never a comforting feeling, though it was becoming more normal as each month went by. I kept waiting for them to tell me that I was going to be completely deaf in X amount of months, like that was something that they could generalise.

As I pulled in, I noticed Joey's beat-up car in its usual spot, pulled in a little lopsided. A constant reminder to never let him do the driving anywhere unless absolutely necessary.

Inside, at first, there was nothing noticeable. They weren't in the parlor, but Joey's sneakers were laid along in the row, toppled over Mokuba's loafers. I hung up my coat and set down the briefcase, heading towards the kitchen. As I got closer, I could make out Mokuba's voice, faint but strained.

"...make an 'E'. Close your fist, like this!"

Lingering in the doorway, I found the pair hunched over the kitchen table, snacks strewn about, a textbook open between them.

"That's what I'm doin'. Look. Fist. See?"

"But your thumb is the wrong way," Mokuba protested, and leaned over, moving Joey's thumb to the proper position. "Try again."

Something must have been said, because Mokuba ended up sticking his tongue out at Joey before his eyes met mine, a smiling beaming on his face.

"Nii-sama!"

Joey looked over his shoulder halfway through reciting the alphabet, and he leaned back in his chair. "Oi, took ya long enough!"

 _Shut up,_ I signed, followed by: "I'm earlier than normal."

"'Ey! I know 'shut up'!" He said, and clamped his thumb onto the other four fingers in front of his mouth. "Can't pull that one on me. I'm gonna know all this 'fore long."

 _It's gonna take a while. Don't worry_ , Mokuba signed.

 _Don't throw in too much at once. His brain might fry_ , I replied.

Joey passed his glances between us while I rolled my eyes and Mokuba snorted. "Ya guys are mean. I jus' can tell your both bein' assholes."

"M'kay...we're done for the day then. Good luck having nii-sama teach you," Mokuba said, nose up, and he marched out of the room.

"I'll figure it out without ya!"Joey proclaimed, his hand slamming on the textbook, wincing, and pulling his arm up. On his forearm was the remnants of the accident. A thick, but healed, purple line that had once been bleeding. It would scar, without a doubt. Sometimes, I wondered, if it could have happened any other way. If I had just manned up instead of getting into it with him and walking out. If my pride hadn't overtaken me in that very moment.

Joey caught me staring. "Ah, yeah! Went t' the doc today, too. They took the stitches out. Looks better'n I thought it would."

"Looking better and feeling better are two different things," I said, and sat down at the table.

"Is that your backwards way of sayin' you're worried?" Joey asked. I hadn't heard him, absently looking between the scar and the page he was on the textbook. He repeated himself.

I felt a miserable little laugh crop up. "It's not quite that."

Joey leaned his cheek into his hand. "What? D'ya still think it's your fault? Stop it, a'right? I made that decision."

"And it was an idiotic one," I replied. "You didn't think about how bad you could have been hurt."

A grin, and a blush, appeared on Joey's face, though he ducked down to hide it. "You woulda been splatter on the street, an' you know it. I saved your sorry hide. An' I did it 'cause I wanted to. Once I saw the flowers, it was jus'—"

"Instinct," I said, interrupting him. How many times had we had this dialogue? "I know."

"Then shut up," Joey said, and he signed it as well, to my amusement. "How'd your appointment go?"

"It went."

"That good, huh?" Joey snorted. I leaned closer, silent, the nerves bundled up beneath a quiet exterior, my eyes not meeting his. "Bad news?"

"No. There's no change."

"Then what's the matter?" Joey asked.

My hands clasped together in front of my mouth to keep them from trembling. "I just don't like going. I'm always worried about what they might tell me. That I might get worse."

Joey's cheeks puffed up for a moment, jaw ticking side to side as he searched for words. "I'm gonna be here for ya, no matter what, a'right?" He said, and reached out, prying my hands down and away from my face. "Even if it does get worse."

I said nothing, only let a small grin form on my face. He had no idea how much those words meant to me. The ever present fear of being rejected, scared, of becoming less than a perfect entity always lingered in the back of my mind. And yet here Joey was, brazen and honest, doing whatever he could to assure me otherwise. Perhaps he did, I considered, because he as smiling back when he let my hand go to return back to practicing with the textbook.

This was our compatibility—

 _I love you_ , Joey signed, making sure his honey eyes met mine. _I love you, Seto._

Joey spelled my name out. My first name. A name I hadn't heard him say yet...and it was almost...better.

 _I love you, too,_ I signed, to his delight. And then added: "You still aren't doing the 'e' right," and I reached over to try and fix his thumb. He shoved me away, and was fierce to show me that he was doing it right.

"It's a freakin' fist! Look! I'm doin' it right. You an' Mokuba are crazy."

—it's a work in progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading and sticking with it to the end! I very much hope You enjoyed. Tell me what you think!
> 
> I’m thinking about transferring over another piece, editing it along the way. :3 we’ll see.


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